My Freedom

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Lest We Forget

The land weeps and bleeds from under my feet, 
yet there are times when I feel nothing. 
No tremors of unrest break out from my heart.  
It's just the purring of contented heartbeats that go 
throb-throb in its usual pace so that I am, 
conveniently alive. 
The visual assault of everyday makes me what I 
regrettably am sometimes
too numb to listen  to the scratching sound of despair. 
Too blind to believe that the tears
are rainfall in a loved one's cheeks.
These, plus the full volume of earphones 
cushion me from all ugliness,  as though beauty
were life's only worthy price.

Alas, I reckon I'd hear my earth's cry very soon
when this heart is still. 
I hear it now. 
Listen with me. 

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