the frightening image of Hell’s Gate

reaching out to me

pleased with my futile

attempts to be free

i’m drawn by demoralizing grief

shown in every face

i desperately try to cover

my secret mirrored place

naked figures contort reality

blushing red dove

shows my soul ripped open

stripped of all its love

smirking at my frustrations

the doors portray

the unfinished destruction

of my thoughts flayed

(This poem was inspired by the work of Rodan. I went to an exhibit of all the sculptures he did for his master work "Hell's Gate" and I came back rather disturbed by it. He was a Genius. A very disturbed one, but aren't they all?)