Deactivation

May there be joy within the sacred places
Between the anxious wrinkles of their faces
Behind the shrieking baby’s fears
And the stranded widow’s tears
Beside the raging torrents of the falls
And in the lurking falcon’s calls
Upon the graves of silenced men
To tell the secrets of now and then
That wring your spirit dry
Shriveling a wanton cry
Which knows no flame of inspiration
Stifled in its desperation
To smile and smile and smile, more
With the face than inner core
Clouds shift and shudder as they burst
But muddied waters immobilize this thirst