this window, through which we watched
women in pale dresses pass
their painted eyes downcast and troubled
carbon ash cast into sky
like rice scattered across concrete
entitled men tugged their chips into tower,
is shuttering; bands of evening dim
each slat hewn from stone falls
heavily into place
we will have to find new portals
in a new year, we may find
after feeling in the cave dark
we must chip away like prisoners
break open new doors
through which to again find stars
this time though will be different
this time we will open up wide
the hole that brings in the light
