Cross In The Valley Poem by Tanec Rayl

our new hospital blocks out the sun
rough worker clocks installing
mirrors within, without, that patients might
turn and realise that oh!
I should turn! And turning find
how fortunate myself to be
the problem of a problem's bite
protected and refractory

our new hospital sits on a fault
we would not have it otherwise
erected wobbling to a height
her blameless edifice contrives
to house a thousand seers tight
and document those million lives
within, without, with desperate spark
dancing on a ship that wanders
plotting pathways to itself
on every voyage purpose-bonded