A Gaze
A Gaze, enshrining hatred dawns upon the cold concrete wall, pocketed with thousands of black watching eyes. These are the first to witness the wind whistling through the encased smoky window, through the hair of this quiet infant, and finally through his ajar mouth on the verge of confessions. Back to the eyes and this hatred - or wait. Are these the same first condemned as criminally stubborn and set against the wall? No, there is a change - subtle, yet unmistakable as the recess of wet tears leaving dry desert beds upon the cool ducts and valleys. Not hatred, no, but regret perhaps? The gaze is no longer that, but now a stare, and this one unmistakably irrevocable.
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Email: hparker@hamilton.edu
