I Shed My Shelter
When a man bleeds- but why say just men;
Women bleed as well, and just as much and just as well;
When one bleeds, needs, is held captive or hung-
Oh, do they bleed! But what they bleed is not blood.
Only, they bleed their rationality, their casual ways;
They can bleed fairies and dust and some of the sun’s rays;
I’ve seen crystal pour out from the hand of a man;
He had lost his home, his friends, yet did not demand-
A shelter; or anything else, yet the crystal shed;
Whilst the blood was red.
“I shed my shelter, I shed the unnecessities,
I shed the false and the unneeded casual voids and vacancies,
I shed my old ways, my days strung out like a movie reels,
All these were my shelter, but the shelter was not real.”
The salt and sand hold these shelters up;
I have shed my shelter and built a home on rock, but-
Will you give yours up?