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Ruins of the Heart
Dusty paths meander under drifting clouds.
A worn-out, shadow rag, this ruined land.
An old man with a sly-eyed dog herds thin cows.
Threatened, I stoop and gather stones.
Moving targets, the dog, a shadow of dust
on burial mounds, wind-stirred with weeds.
Abandoned in this wilderness, a wild thorn
thrusts a spear through my derelict heart.
A rag-bag my own body, stitched together
with threads of long-forgotten tales.
Fear sets nightmare shadows dancing,
skeletons come alive on sculpted graves.
Carved faces, a woman, courted by men.
Which one captured her flowering heart?
Who pierced it with an arrow? Who scarred
her name letter by letter on this stone?
That first rock, freed from my fingers,
strikes hard on the canine’s cowardly frame,
setting earth’s shadows free to flee.