Friday, March 23, 2007

Three second trigger



Waves crash

Bombs blast
And so I go

Here I stand
Hands in pockets, black and hooded, standing over smouldering remains of dreams gone by.

I wonder what
Why,
How in the name of God?
(As they say)

A Creator has no hand in human indifference. Bewilderment is how I'd describe it best. I watch, distant and embittered as an explosion has already wreaked its havoc. Yet a poor, faltering hand places the pin back in a trigger already blown.

But the wounds already fester! The damage, irreparable and static. And then the smoke.





3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Peace, joy, and healing come from one source...not from the inside, not from any one among the throngs of people. Until one turns all over to the right source, suffering will continue...

Anonymous said...

That source can repair your damage.

lizzythebotanist said...

shiz. people like "anonymous" are the reason i will never do my visiting teaching!