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Mind's Eye
November 28, 2011
In my mind’s eye
I see a pretty pasture green
Blue of the clear sky
In which black birds soar
High and low and horses circle
Round and round the bloody carcass
Of a dog
Ripped apart like shreds of paper
Or chocolates torn in a child’s mouth
From a dying country
That has more hope
Than you or I could ever have
Because we live in too much splendor
And comfort and ease
And we are in the isolation
Of having too much
But never having enough
And our hope is torn apart
Like the dog
© Matt S., Glastonbury, CT
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