Saturday, April 11

Blood

I lost.

Reviewing
it all there was never
going to be a winning position. When
two friends lock horns was I meant to step back?
Money now seems wasted on learning how to make win-win-work.

I am not
good at being a bystander. Bleakly witnessing madness unfold in
front of me. Impossible
choices

demanded split-second decisions as the living blood-bond of
friendship raped of life and love. Lies.
Dead on the stoop.

My friend, no stranger to money, power and position has tossed aside his strong and compassionate heart; for what!

A kind woman, kicked to the curb. Her home of eight years, waits for another, another occupant!

I choose to side with the poor and disempowered as the rich seem to take of their own.

My still bleeding heart pumping the life force of an old friend into the gutter. The woman and I stare in amazement,

sitting there on the stoop.