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incomplete they sung

Incomplete They Sung


Was the family dysfunctional?

Or were the participants overcome with confusion?

Or was it just a combination of right meets what’s left?


The two, standing there with hope like rain puddles

Forming pools of desperation on the eve of their lashes

Saw a blurry vision of the real life figures

That represented a family, a spouse, and a phantom

A phantom of their imagination, a phantom

That no longer is internal, but externally nude

Exposed for a price of physical value

Determined by the market of stockings

Worn by thieves in wolves clothing.


The past certainly didn’t look like this recycle bin

Of yesterday’s effectiveness, with today’s evolution

Of abstract art and visual trickery

Repackaged and sold as a wheel

Being spun on the vehicles of retardation.

The consumers should know better than

To ride along in something that breaks down our oh, zone

Out and come back to reality!


This house is not our home, nor is that house

A refuge for the clipped wings of its inhabitants

Incompetent brother with femi-knighted sister

Strength is confused with wealth and

Weakness hides in the closet of the dominant


Oh hold us close

Will you hallelujah!


The pair could not fathom why their search had

Terminated in a building made with a skeleton

Of hero past.  Sure, the outside was clothed

Garments were handcrafted in hard labor by children of God

But the blood that ran

The blood coursing through veins in the Lord’s name

Began to dry up—

Instead of protecting the body, sustaining it

It broke down in Jericho like proportions


And the song once sung within the city walls

Became mute at the authentic call of the trumpets

Circling the city

For the message became poignant for those on the extremities

Since those in the safety of their city

Grew mute to the needs of the poor,

The homeless,

The incomplete.



About R. Ward

A husband, father, teacher, and struggling man of God.

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