Animated Life

Sometimes it seems that you’re not listening,

But I know that you can hear the birdsong in the forest

And the harrowing, anguished cry of a mother’s loss.

I know that the breathless sounds of passion reach you

And that lonely sighs of despair fill your ears.

I know that you are listening,

Because I am listening too

And we cannot but be moved

By the soundtrack of life.

 

Sometimes it seems that you’re not seeing,

But I know that you can see beauty through the artist’s eye

And ugliness in the cancer of rampant, selfish greed.

I know that the sight of carefree children reach you

And that poverty’s wasteland blots your vision.

I know that you are seeing,

Because I am seeing too

And we cannot but be enrapt

By the canvass of life.

 

Sometimes it seems that you’re not speaking,

But I know that you recount the tales of everyday heroes

And gossip about the vampires that suck society dry.

I know that words of poetry swirl in your mouth

And that shouts of abuse spill from your lips.

I know that you are speaking,

Because I am speaking too

And we cannot but be enchanted

By the story of life.

 

Sometimes it seems that you’re not breathing,

But I know that you can smell the sweet perfume of flowers

And the stench of rotten lies, like decomposing carcasses.

I know that the aroma of love intoxicates you

And the stink of hatred reaches your nostrils.

I know that you are breathing,

Because I am breathing too

And we cannot but be infused

With the scent of life.

 

Sometimes it seems that you’re not feeling,

But I know that your sky lights up with firework jubilation

And you languish sometimes in depression’s dark valley.

I know that the sloshing tide of contentment has lapped your shores

And the sludge of self-deprecation has mired your path.

I know that you are feeling,

Because I am feeling too

And we cannot but be bubbling

With the emotion of life.

 

Wayne Visser © 2011

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