It’s the anxiety in the open air around me
that saps my joy in a bright lone daffodil

the demanding of a should be ally
for whom no assurance is enough

a people becoming numb
to the violation of everyday dignity

an uncertainly in my own integrity

if we were to note
what is done amiss
O God, who could stand?

I would flee to a far-off place
and make my lodging in the wilderness
Psalm 55:8