Red

This is a poem I wrote called "Red". Don't freak out, it's not about me or anyone, I know; I was just following a prompt for my creative writing class. But I hope it makes you think at least a little bit about the hardness of the world and how our society reacts to pain.

I wrote a couple much better (and happier) poems for that class that I would love to share with you, but I am going to have to wait to do so.

I think the door to poetry has been reopened for me, and I'm excited to try to get back into it. Expect more on this blog from now on, and hold me accountable if I don't supply you with at least monthly poetry.

Without further ado,


Red

I felt the tiny bump

Of the chipmunk under the tire

Of my pickup truck,
And I laughed.
Seeing thousands

Of tears
From my broken-hearted mother
Hardened mine.
For even in her womb,
Her sobs angered me
When her compassion
drew her to a bloody chipmunk
facing death on a sidewalk.
Bloody indeed!
The cracks drink it in and the sidewalk cries out in terror
And my mother answered its call
Tending to the worthless body before her
Her mountain crumbled but I am a volcano.
And I grew up
Hating tears,
Hating animals
And tenderness.

God bless.