sparrow in no direction

Like a sparrow in the window
of a Midwest funeral,
I am tapping on your shoulder
to disrupt this desperate mood.
There are lives I have torn—
but only few have yet to heal,
and I am wondering if you are one of them—
or one who has never broke their seal.
Like a sermon to the suicide,
while the razor cuts—
I am asking you to interrupt
before I hold out to you
my cup.

written on 04/18/2010 by: Matt Kane