Poems on the Edge: Where Bullets Meet Breath

Bullets Meet Breath

Bullets kill swift, cold,
breaking bone and burning flesh.
Words cannot defend,
But poems syncopate time,
hoisting verity through the years.

Shots erase the breath,
but ink stains the page for fate.
Voices sibylline,
whisper in the quiet halls,
long after guns grow silent.

A poem can’t block lead,
but it holds what bullets miss:
memory and hope.
Telluric pulses rise –
Fragile wings soar beyond the blast.

Death is fast and loud,
yet recitals breathe new life –
sooth’s drum never stills,
carved in lines that will not die.
Hushed armor against the dark.

Another Poem by Skendong: Don’t Mention Guns Today