Now I am out of element 
And far from anything my own,
My sources drained of all content,
The pieces of my spirit strewn.

All random, wasted, and dispersed,
The particles of being lie;
My special heaven is reversed,
I move beneath an evil sky.

This flat land has become a pit
Wherein I am beset by harm,
The heart must rally to my wit
And rout the specter of alarm.



 = Heather C. Liston