by Howie Good
The world is a rifle butt
smashed in your face
a panting hand reaching
for your only child
And now the weather
What if our hearts weren’t
such paper-thin bags
of blood and vomit
what if they were shiny
like the water-bright coats
of prancing red horses
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
what if our hearts..weren’t such paper-thin bags…
this line.. really, it’s so aching and tender. it is very fragile.
This poem made me realize how fragile our human existence is and we almost forget that we are here to live forever.
It’s times like these which makes us think how non-permanent(if there is such a word) we are.
Such a great poem as it rings in my heart and make me feel the pain.