Out of grace’s ills,
slightly off the main drag,
is the room where daylight
drains away into the brilliance.
On and out and away,
no troubles exist there that I have seen.
Its loving peace sustains,
like anesthetic sleep.
In my little room, with little things
that shape my memories.
Hope and despair are irrelevant.
Here’s a place I don’t need to care.
In my room
one way or another
dispel my mind.
Here it’s safe like a mother’s womb,
quiet as an angel’s tomb.
Sailing sanctuary
home.
HG 1995-2000
