god'swife11 Dec 2002

Can someone help me, I think that I'm lost here, lost in a place called America... I am crying now because of your poem and Mr. Foster's poem and talking with Andrea last night about her dead dad, and Joey asking me questions about how exactly did his father's head get bashed in, and how did it look and an articleIi just read about the decay of my homeland and everythings so overwhelming. Joey put on his band uniform last-night for a final fitting and he looked so dear with his little bowtie and cumberbund. He'll be 12 tomorrow and still doesn't understand what a frightening, pain-filled world this is. It's layers deep. I will cry for a few more minutes and then i must pluck up the courage to trudge ahead for your boy, for my boy, for me. I love your poem. The soft sweet part of you.