Bullets in the Chamber

Father time carries a gun

loaded with bullets

made of fragmented memories

and pain. Mother nature

fills the casings of her bullets

with prosperity and conviction.

Locked and loaded: ready

to shoot at any moment.

They take aim without

us knowing we can be

target practice. Some survive

with holes in their chests –

others are laid to rest.

Without warning, stray bullets

can hit us, piercing our mortal

skin. They go right through us –

particles of dust in the wind.

To wear a bullet proof vest

is to carry extra weight.

It’s pointless to contemplate

our fate. The day will come

when the bullets fall from

the sky. Mother nature will

empty her clip, as father time

has his hanging off his hip.

They don’t condone violence,

but they have rules to follow.

It’s a tough pill to swallow.

The powers at be, the ones

we can’t see, remain undefeated.

Their aim is unbelievable.

Spirits watch us. They grab

us by the hand. They guide

us to the promise land. They might

take a bullet for you. In the end,

the rulers of the universe have

the final say. They reload

their guns at the end of the day.