                                  A PRAYER
                             by Martin Zialcita


                           Lies wet the lips
                           Of the saintly priest.
                           Truth broken,
                           Joy mangled beyond belief - 
                           Endless dreams troubled
                           By a burning cross.
                           With downcast eyes
                           I say my prayers
                           To the sun-scorched soil.
                           A heart tired of beating,
                           Cold water flowing thru
                           Bloodless veins - 
                           A mirthless smile
                           Dancing on my cracked lips.
                           
                           And still I gaze
                           At the blackened soil...
                           Hoping for redemption 
                           From the damned.


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