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Curmudgeon, Part III |
For Jack Shaffer
Kindness be not wasted,
do not melt into the furrows
of the swirling wooden floor.
Sprout where the words pierced,
where the whisper soothed
the wound,
a Samaritan's balm,
the widow sharing her last
loaf of nourishing breath.
Let not this gift be squandered,
inherit the earth and
the hardened
hearts, those who sidestep
a wheelchair with disdain.
Tell us,
can you shake the flutter of the
jugular? Do you feel the trembling
inside your intestines?
Wooden floors creak, the black dog
roams your neighborhood with open
yellow eyes.
Let not this lesson be lost.
Will I be kind unto my death
or will death be a kindness
unto me?
copyright 2005
Angel
Perales |
