Have I not hurt enough? ~ A poem

Has the earth decided 

That because I have roots

I may be whipped by the wind 

Until all of my leaves are torn away?

Have I not hurt enough?



Has the sky decided

That the dark, icy grip of the night

Is merely a payment I owe

For the beautiful, but distant stars?

Have I not hurt enough?



Has the universe decided

That since I am a speck in the galaxy 

To never allow me to forget 

That I am small and insignificant?

Have I not hurt enough?



Has it been decided 

That the suffering forced upon us

By forces over which we hold no power

Is no more than a part of Life?

Have we not hurt enough?


8/23

A. C. Mortale 

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Free Spirit

Then, he moved as loose grains of sand do at the touch of the gentle breeze—gliding a short distance before stopping and then moving once again. His eyes were a shade of dull, lifeless grey that seemed both to mirror that of the dismal sky and to put it to shame with its own barely concealed gloom.

And yet, watching him with glassed over eyes, arms wrapped around myself in my own personal cage, I saw a free spirit.

A.C. Mortale


A Gentle Pond ~ a poem

Shadows stretch across the surface-

Of a small, unnoticed pond,

Delicate lilies cling to its face-

Masking that which lies beyond;

Not a ripple dares to shatter-

This plane of tinted glass,

Fixed firmly like a scenic picture-

As many, lonely years pass;

Although rare, there comes a time-

Where eyes sharp and perceptive,

Seek out the waiting, forest pond-

With its depths dark and deceptive;

Timid toe gently breaks the face-

The ripples scattering the illusion,

Of calm contentment that truly is-

Naught but a self-conjured delusion;

Bare skin meets the freezing water-

Hopeful smile turns to worried frown,

The pond is deeper than expected-

All who attempt to delve shall drown;

Beware, step not further my way;

Attempt not to unmask my lies.

I am dangerous under my surface;

This gentle pond is my disguise.

04/18/16 A.C. Mortale