Blood Calls

So many gifts and so much pain
sometimes it seems we've naught to gain
for born within this maze of genes
comes great insight but also burdens

The gift of sensitivity
this rare potential for connectivity
with a genetic map, each child born
must reach out far beyond their skin to transform.

Reach out within creation rampant,
detached from bloods vehement drumming descant
each child must puzzle through the skin of man
interweaving their genetics unplanned?

Since, life and death must ebb and flow
the weak child must pass, the strong must grow, and so..
unprotected sympathy declines
some seek strong drugs while others seek their wine.

It hurts, oh how it hurts to see
to feel, to know, to hush, to be an amputee
but sensitive souls can seldom bare 
raw, bloody life on earth without a care.

And so, they come and go lost souls,
if not aided by a higher hand's control.
We all lose, we lose their divine gift
their plight is ours and death comes swift.


 
 
*Dedicated to Craig Cornish 
and all the sensitive souls who find life
too much and must dull its blows.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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Maverick Avatar
February 18, 2012 at 3:13 PM
Enjoyed this wide ranging write,, so full of empathy, and possibility's of life.. or possible losses of the same within existence..Well put together piece here Debbie...)
Andresen Avatar
February 16, 2012 at 11:44 AM
You have a touching poem her Debbie.Very well written! - oxox love Anne-Lise
Squyres Avatar
February 16, 2012 at 8:30 AM
A lovely dedication and a heartfelt poem. Deeply touched by it's words.
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