Monday, October 22, 2012

Over the years

Over the years
 I have realised that
The only way to get over
 This overwhelming sadness
(Perhaps of loss and scarred remains)
Which descends like a blanket
Of cold night stars
My warm blood
 Slowing turning Cold
 Cold like my collar bone
Over the years,
 I have begun
To depend on transferring it
 To a cause larger than one life
So I have a shelf of them
Like a collector's prized possession-
On Rwanda, Bosnia, Darfur, Gaza.

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