Call Home The Fire

Fearful spirit, crying

mad ramblings of man

poison causing pain

beaten down, no praise.

Steps away from crazed

shadowed by the moon

thoughts of suicide

murder for no reason.

What of those left behind

to grieve and cry

to mourn one who took

a coward’s way out.

Face the light, make peace

let it guide to strength

Call home the fire

For there is still life.

By Ruth A. Souther - 1991

Back to Poetry main page