I’VE BEEN SHOT — IN THE BACK

I set off with my satchel on my back...
I don’t even know where I’m headed.
Is it the satchel, or what I’ve lived?
Let the stab wounds on my back keep bleeding.

To whom can I call a friend and speak my truth?
The wound in my heart hurts my soul.
A wound from a twelve-caliber bullet —
What’s left pure when love has been fed lies?

Those you called friend wound you from behind,
Love cuts deep into your heart.
Like a caravan without a compass, I move on.
A loveless soul is like a tree without leaves.

Let beauty be untouched, let it be sacred,
Don’t break violets from their stems.
Let colors blend and beauty live on,
Don’t taint it — let LOVE be life.

Hope blossoms when your heart is called upon.
You fall onto love’s path with your whole heart.
Love ends before it takes a breath.
Can there be love in a heart that holds no love within?