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,
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.