Portia Steele Award Organization(c)

Third Place Winner, Poetry

"Soul's Lament"
Sherry D. Hooker
Milledgeville, GA.

The night is still, so deathly still

where naught moves nor does it matter.

Where my soul feels so cold and chill,

my icy teeth begin to clatter.

The night and land awash in fog

lets nothing show around nor through.

Silence is shattered by a dog

as it howls at the moon-glowed dew.

My flesh feels now of things that crawl

unseen in black and starless night.

My screams are but a soundless call

that echoes of a mindless fright.

There is nowhere that I may flee,

no one to hear my frantic cry.

Oh, God! Please say this cannot be!

Yet, within casket walls I lie.

From this flesh my soul doth fly

and bear this corpse to those who weep.

With hope, takes wing into the sky

to Heaven—and at last—to sleep.

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