It is Fragile

It is fragile.
The paper barrier between flesh and air.
The wind cuts through it like razors
And the beasts of the field stomp it down to mere dust

They are fragile.
The veins who transport life.
The wine is spilled
Into marrow
If the wine goes bad,
then the the heart does too
For it cannot tell blood from poison

It is fragile
The border between your world and mine
The sun shines through the paneless window in shades of violet, orange.
The colors leak into my daydream.

This is fragile
The life suspended in my arms
She is full of breath and light
Like a seed ’bout to burst
Child of wonder, you have my eyes
And you’ll be my light even at your worst.

Published by The Poetry of Ants

I've been writing poetry since I was little. These poems have always been my means of resolving the world as it is against the world as it should be. Writing has been my great catharsis. I hope that you and I may be able to share in that.

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