I am bent and I am broken.
There are words that I have spoken
With the passion and conviction of apostles,
But they mean nothing to me now.
Into the frying pan out of the fire-
Still scalding hot,
Still weeping.
I am still a ragged child
Ringing her hands and wailing-
Over what, even I cannot tell.
Bent, broken-
Words I've spoken.
Passion and conviction,
Common to my youth...
It means nothing to me now.
(Even as I scream
There is no sound.)
No: I cannot hear, yet I believe-
With all the passion and conviction of apostles and youth-
You never meant a thing.
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