Desolation looks at me
with the clarity of knowledge,
hands reaching out
palms turned upwards to the heavens.
Why? is a question
she refuses to ask,
knowing that the answer
is deeply hidden
and even Justice without her blindfold
would speak in riddles.
I would lend her warmth
in the dust and ashes of her existence,
but she turns away,
not begging help or understanding.
Her tears have already disappeared
in the common grave of the anonymous
and I am left with unanswered love.