We’ve trapped ourselves in every way,

“I was never apart of it” you’d like to say.

Head down, eyes closed, with blinkers on,

As though you wore a blindfold.


But blindfold intimates you’ve chosen,

While blinkers on,

Speaks of duty and delusion.


Guilt the blind man’s sightly sin.


Listening to empty words,

Spoken with beautiful finery,

From the house without Lordly manner or dynasty.


Blind man listening well,

Eats his just deserts with dirty fingernails.

Blind man caught in his bluff,

While worldly men squirm in a rut.


Black man, white man,

Woman and child,

Bridle and bit made to be the perfect fit.


Homeless, is the truth for many,

Numbness splits the lips of the weary.

Honest words hang mournfully from parched muzzle,

As the mill horse clocks another circle.


Forelock your love,

Find your power.

Live without the bit and bridle.



5 thoughts on “Untitled

  1. Sarah,

    I am sitting in my living room, listening to the Stephen Nolan Radio Ulster show, and wondering, If you would want to send your beautifully emotionally moving poem to Stephen.

    I would love him to read it on air.


    Sent from my iPad


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