Why?
A friend saw this happen. A baby slip from its mother's hands under a bus. My soul feels like it's being stabbed by a blunt, rusty knife again and again. Maybe the poem lacks the force that comes out of first-person-perspective. Would like to know if it does.
Why?
I saw an infant die;
Supple pink crushed by soft rubber
toughened for human ease.
Death’s quiet pop-squish
Shushed life’s beating metal thud-bangs.
The din of coming grief,
Tore through denial’s heavy silence.
And two futures broke
Under the guilt of another wrenched
From hands too weak to claw back.
I walked away,
Heart 72 to a minute,
And order stepped gingerly
By a moment’s chaos.
I saw an infant die
And live to tell it.
Why?
Why?
I saw an infant die;
Supple pink crushed by soft rubber
toughened for human ease.
Death’s quiet pop-squish
Shushed life’s beating metal thud-bangs.
The din of coming grief,
Tore through denial’s heavy silence.
And two futures broke
Under the guilt of another wrenched
From hands too weak to claw back.
I walked away,
Heart 72 to a minute,
And order stepped gingerly
By a moment’s chaos.
I saw an infant die
And live to tell it.
Why?
posted by RTP | 4:59 AM
5 Comments:
just can't think about it...
awww...
nice post, though awful incident that must have been really really bad... so sad.
Why??
Why ra, no more posts?
it's a good poem!
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