How Much

They preach and scorn
At the dreams
Which fabricate existence,
Like blood and air
And the smell of summer rain.

They came and tried
To suck the breath
Out of me.

What do they know,
How can they know
What it feels
To be alive?

They, who never dared
To dream of sailing
Undiscovered seas,
Or fall in love
With a face they saw
On a passing train?

I clutch at walls,
With bloody nails,
I wail
And wonder
What it takes.

Will they never understand
That life is more than
Consuming that which
Has a price?

They never look twice
At the butterflies and
Flowers,
Each hour
More beautiful
Than the last.

© 1996, Jennifer D. Lac Kamp