Tuesday, December 16, 2014

I ache for those
standing in their broken bones;
ache too for those who broke the bones.
And for the one who counts the minutes till release.
And for the one with pen in hand,
recording it all.  All.

We are animals, and not wise.
What we have is our likenesses--
two arms, two legs, two eyes,
one heart.  And if that heart is gone
who are we, what are we, and how do we breathe?

16 December 2014