the Name is lost

Like the face of light splintering off prisms,
reflection disillusioned in the face of
patriarchic
disembodiment from reality.

When does the decision set in?

Snow falls peacefully upon my eyelids,
heavy with tears
frozen in my already fragmented
existence.

Can I lose this one without?

The heavy befalls the simple: where am I? The
Name
of father falls from my tongue, sinks to the floor;
how grand it goes without my words of in my soul.

Does he know the thumbing, the beating, the loss I feel?

In not knowing lies the terror
choking the spring flowers under static
worlds.
The help of the white must achieve.