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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Gone ~ A Poem

My name resounds in the empty room,

The sound, an echo on blank walls,

They call for me, they call to me—

Searching down these empty halls;

The bed waits cold in the empty room,

Where only darkness laid that night,

Eyes scanned the star-speckled skies—

But failed to spot one dying light;

Shadows pace in the empty room,

Waiting, hoping, for my return,

This life passes like a forest fire—

No one notices the last leaf burn;

Darkness retreats at the light of dawn.
They search for me—

 But I’m already gone. 
June 8, 2017

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