January 3, 2017

  • Looking at the Broken

    Hands of Pain

    Sharp shards scatter
    Sharp they cut the hands
    Hands may try to gather
    Hands will fail the tasks
    Tasks undertaken
    Tasks to piece together
    Together we scoop the glass
    Together we bleed
    Bleed from tiny cuts
    Bleed and drip red
    Red sticky blood on glass
    Red glue to mend the broken
    Broken glass and hearts
    Broken glass and spirits
    Spirits are fragile
    Spirits easily shattered
    Shattered dreams
    Shattered into pieces
    Pieces of tomorrow
    Pieces missing and lost
    Lost sharp edges
    Lost in the carpet
    Carpet the floor in tears
    Carpet over the break
    Break the cycle
    Break what violence broke
    Broke and bruised
    Broke and bleeding
    Bleeding money and time
    Bleeding away life
    Life is in tatters
    Life has points
    Points that pierce
    Points for the pointless
    Pointless to cry
    Pointless to rage
    Rage against the bleeding
    Rage until tears flow
    Flow and mingle
    Flow like blood from cuts
    Cuts deep
    Cuts to the quick
    Quick to staunch the blood
    Quick to point a finger
    Finger the gaping wound
    Finger in the pain
    Pain of disappointment
    Pain from the loss
    Loss
    Disappointment

    With the joy of Christmas still lingering in the air, I am aware of the pain and brokenness of this world. People near and far are hurt and dying. Lives are broken and futures destroyed by acts of violence. Some are lost in wars and some are lost amid their own personal battles - with drugs, alcohol, and senseless acts of brutality. There are those people who by their own hand destroy their lives. And then there are the people who are innocents and lose their lives. It happens suddenly like a glass that slips from the hand and smashes on the floor. There is no warning. A life is simply gone. No amount of science or medicine can yet bring them back together and return the soul to the body. Before Christmas I saw the videos from Aleppo. I felt helpless. Then Sparky accidentally knocked over a display stand that held 6 of my orbs. The orbs fell and 4 were destroyed. It seems we are all made of glass and without warning we break or are broken.

    The poem is a blitz poem. It has 50 lines where the first word of each couplet is the same until line 49 which is the last word from line 48 and line 50 is the last word from line 47. The title is the first word of line 3 followed by a preposition or conjunction and then the first word from line 47.

Comments (2)

  • An interesting poem, Val -- I like the format, and the words say so much! I hope your 2017 is not made up of such helplessness!

    • I am very hopeful if not still stressed out from 2016. I'm glad you liked the poem! Sometimes just putting it down on paper reduces the internal pressure. Once out in the open it can be named and minimized..

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