Out of Egypt:

standing

in the late April light,
streaks on the full-length window-pane,
a glance across a garden wall -
a barren grassland where trees look dead -
the schoolbus passes by
and i am stared down by those eyes:
a stranger here, a bride of Christ,
in mind grown weak, yet seeking life.

why i am kept within these walls -
tepid yellow, carpeted?
i know, as all my thought is wrong.
the children see, and, heartless, laugh.