when blood is bled

“...the heart has no tears to give, it drops only blood,  
bleeding itself away in silence.”―Harriet Beecher Stowe  
 
do you contemplate the little boy  
without one button on his shirt,  
or the dog devoid of kennel joy  
that whines and huddles in the dirt,  
or the poor bird with the broken wing  
that flutters on, yet dares to sing?  
 
do you pluck the red rose from its stem  
just to indulge in its perfume?  
and the petals, as you trample them:  
is it for you they pause to bloom?  
and the bee that wants to pollinate:  
must he pine for a new rose date?  
 
can you count the stars up in the sky,  
or print a halo round the moon?  
can you catch the whimper of a sigh,  
to paint a pleasant afternoon?  
when the vibrant river faints midstream,  
can you restore its ocean dream?  
 
can you count the hairs upon your head,  
or freeze a heartbeat in a frame?  
can you give new life, when blood is bled,  
to cover all of human shame?  
have you stopped to thank God for the breath  
that keeps your soul from certain death?  
 
© Copyright 2023 October 03  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫