Grey Matter – Poem By Bill Ivans
These bodies are all cities
bounded by territories of pride
Shielding insecurities from the rest of the world –
Internally corrupt with broken fabric and slack cells,
Yet highly labeled on the global stage of life for fame;
Betraying the citizens within.
These bodies are just stewards of consignments,
Serving as home to souls and keeper of lives.
They are but buffer zones between life and death;
Sometimes dying, sometimes living,
And other times forming a confluence with both.
These fleshly bodies are just bodies – frail, fragile and full of flaws.
Bearing scars and bruises, growing wrinkled and tattered.
Fading slowly, losing value and beauty.
White or Black, these bodies are just bodies – nobody is evergreen.