Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Trembling leaf clinging to the wire fence.
I see my name etched in your gold veins.
The way your precarious perch has made you heart-shaped.
Your translucence can't but let the light shine through.
You are stretched from tip to stem-end.
Clinging for life, holding on by a bare curl.
The CROSS bars hold you, and you lie quivering in this bare trust.
Don't you know that the wind will come and blow you away from your wired perch?
Don't you know that you're already dead?
I think you must know that to die is to live.
And I see purpose in all that is desperate.
I understand now why you tremble at each blast of the wind.
He Who cut you heart-shaped is near.
And His breath will take you home.