What the Eye Sees the Heart Cannot Forget

The little shack on the other side of the hill Now another monument to death, he knows But something beckons, something, still This is the path the warrior chose. Gun pointed at the scattering shadows Nobody to trust, it’s better to fill No assumptions. Presently he slows: The little shack on the other side of the hill Long before this time, death was a thrill But seeing it makes any man close Their eyes, lest they see what’s haunting their kill Now another monument to death, he knows Peeking inside, another places of woes A shiver up the spine, a chill To see the mutilation of others’ beaus But something beckons, something, still Another step in, a gunshot shrill The air rips apart with endemic’s crows Before the world turns to black and nil. This is the path the warrior chose. All that remained a little book of prose The heart never forgets when it was ill As the powers of Nature swiftly rose She found, on the other side of the hill The little shack…