It can slide into your heart
with all the power of a barbed arrow,
shot at point-blank range
from a compound hunting bow,
yet you may not even know
that you have just
received a death-thrust.
Your own body will betray you,
eagerly welcoming the sudden lurch,
the rapid pulse and breath.
And who would not choose such a death?
This sweet loss of lonely self,
where surrender is a joyous affirmation
of life still worth living,
and of love being enough, just by giving.
Words like,
'heartbroken, torn, shattered',
may be carelessly used,
but if you go behind the scene,
you will learn what they can really mean.
As you in horror view
what once was innocent and new,
now broken and bruised,
know that the devestation of any killing
is revealed in the obscene ruins
of jagged, weeping
Exit Wounds...
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