what a poem!! perfect

notalltheenglishdrinktea

 

In conflict what is stirred

is fear that we might choose the wrong

and, living, loving, turn to bitterness

through disbelief. The song

is hollow in the whisper heard

by broken shadows, which, fractured, long

for right to cleanse and heal

through scars that ache and scream

conviction.                 

But which is worse?

The sacrifice which lets us know

a sacrifice was made?

(And yet we leave…)

Or,

to live within the world

the sacrifice would save

and, bitter, grieve?

 

12/12/11

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