And why did I fail,
And do not fail

The golondrinas are still lying about on the cross bars
Saying, why me? why me?

We are fringed about with madness
And sour words like why didn't I,
                            and if I had only, and
                                          I should have

Words that permit no forgiveness.

Soon enough they will come in their dark cars
To take what's left, to salt the earth with it...

Grey stones, those who mourn standing grey, blown about
By the dry winds that shuffle the rest of us

In wisps of wondering,
                          and why me, and
                                                I should have known

--- ©1972, The Estate of
Rebecca S. Wrangle

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