the moon is full. the second blue moon of the year. how could i resist turning my thoughts to the muse. i have been holding a sorrow and waiting for her to take form. waiting for the muse to whisper to me so i can embrace the sorrow and make her mine. so i can release her into the night and go on. i worry that this poem may make you sad - you may understand why after you read it, but i don't want you to feel sad for the wrong reason. the sadness should be that such hatred exists and not for what has been asked or done. i myself am grateful that, like the phoenix, one is born anew from the flame: a resurrection, a rebirth, a new poem. i like its sadness as i liked the happiness of the other. it is fitting that this poem grew on the ashes of the other. requiem: 3/31/99 for all the people and art that lost their lives due to hatred and ignorance i was surprised at how sad i felt the loss hit me harder than i ever would have thought such a small thing to delete the words to remove a poem and yet there is such a large hole gaping where once it greeted me full of life and vibrancy so young so fresh and now gone a victim of hate or fear of hate to be more precise and yet it was my hand mine alone that took her out of respect for a fear alive in another a fear of a hate that unfortunately could come into her reality i don't know how or why it would come to her but i could not bear to be the source and so i chose to remove the poem to hide her life to make her live in shadows to make her know sorrow from not fully being what she is and so i learn that i too am not fully being what it is i am and therein lies my sorrow

	take me in the shadows take me back to the songbook take me home