The edges of these cement walls
I am crumbling on my last day.
Like the edges of these cement walls,
I am battered by time.
I have lost myself among the hours.
I have forced patience into the blank spaces of days and nights.
But the sun that rises is not my sun.
Its cold light is indifferent and untrue.
I open my hands and open my hands and open my hands,
Ready to receive grace and let go.