
Can you hear me?
Does this emotion make a sound.
If I drop a pebble in the ocean
Will it make my father proud?
Is this disconnectedness
Our common ground.
Is this losing streak
The change in luck we need.
Is this the seed, the beginning
Of the final act, my friend.
Will I get the signal through
The interference. Will the DJ play
My dedication across the dying ground today.
What if the perspective shifts
And what was hidden
Becomes plain to see,
And what was visible
Starts to disappear,
Drowning beneath the waves.
Rifle loaded, target acquired
In the crosshairs for a headshot again
And only those from the dead ground will be saved.
Can you hear me?
Does this emotion make a sound.
Is all that remains just shadow
And dust and memory.
With every heartbeat counting down,
Tightening the embrace
Between every one of us and death.
Until every piece has been played
And no dying ground remains.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Reblogged this on Made of sticks and stones and commented:
Day 21 of my review of the last 12 months and a poem about perspectives …
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