Child

To look on to look on

what name is this?

To look on to touch

what sound is this?

To look on, to cradle

what hurt is this?

 

to have it slip through my hands

and it has gone away like dust

like dust on the cutting wind

 

To look on, to fear

what place is this?

To look on, to believe

what God is this?

To look on, to know

what heaven is there?

 

how can I say

when she has bled

and a life has gone away

with her blood?

–David Susswein

David is a writer that lives at the bottom of England, next to the sea. There in the quietude he plans world literary domination or at least to write passionately and truly. That is all he can do. He’s contactable on Facebook or Twitter.

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