BEHEAD THE MAN I WAS

BEHEAD THE MAN I WAS

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

Reflections are a bitter encampment

of sequestered fires

as I have dosed the flames with my evasiveness.

Regrets and sorry’s have been singed

yet i remember them as if in an eternal dream.

Walden Pond was well hidden

but today it comes back in sharp relief.

Innocent are the faces

who in their sublime changes casted an arrow

that would come back around

and penetrate my hardened heart of stone.

Reflections are more than glimmering nuances

whose fragile beacons vibrate

shimmering the truth of who we really are.

We carve pain

and become the sustenance of pain.

We transverse against the throws of love

and somehow allow the intolerance

to capsize the loving hearts of the innocent.

I am guilty of burning love away.

Understanding fate in the hands of love

I am now suffering the axe.

We chisel pain

and become the shield of a wondrous light.

So behead the man I was …