I wrote and copy-wrote this March 23, 1982 in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada.
The word guilt can be replaced with any word that suites ones emotional state.
10 years later I wrote another poem called “Birth” and I’ll post it next week.
A guilty heart with time…
Becomes poisoned in a river that bubbles bittersweet wine.
The victim who belongs to that heart, doesn’t realize the eroding, the tearing apart,
The stupid games being played with its guilty tormented heart.
The heart drifts from day to days
From river to river, it drifts & drifts, & winds here & there,
It can’t decide where,
But sooner or later it finds its way upon the falls.
And down the cascading falls it falls in what is years…
Of old abandoned tears.
Its mind is dead & the soul of the heart has been washed away; so now what is left?
So now what is drifting down that river?
It is a heart, but alas the heart is only driftwood.
It seems to drift forever, hoping to find a home,
It does, but too late because this heart that changed to driftwood has now turned to
The person who inspired the poem did find a home – he made one – he had and raised children. Or maybe the poem was about me and I was just too blind to know it; but the “Birth” poem is about me.
Please feel free to share, copy, distribute and transmit the work and acknowledge the author: Rita Jasper and this blog http://www.ritajasper.wordpress.com
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