Concerned

i imagine you alone in bed
with a wound
blood drips but you are tactful
on this matter
you put cotton and apply
the needed pressure
to stop the bleeding
of your heart

then you stand up
head high
look over the window
take a deep breath
and smile to the passing
wind

this is life
these are the accompanying pains of birth
the obedience to the cycle

and then it rains
you close the glass window
the strong wind cannot be heard
with its murmurs

you go back to bed
and sleep
with all the peace and quiet inside
the room
of your soul

this is the acceptance
less all the denials.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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