A Lanf Of Brides Poem by richard ilnicki

I will never intentionally
make your heart sink
down to where no heart belongs,
that miasma laden swampland of disease
full of busted.
No heartland here
strategic to the defense of love,
but a land strewn with jagged shards
and dangling ruptures
clinging to an exhausted vital impulse.
A macabre valley full of prosthetic heart valves,
synthetic blood and melted Jarvik plastic.
Ischemia is contagious;
even the skeletons have been diagnosed depleted
falling down rattling infarcted.
Furthermore! You can't even breathe down here;
every breath exacts a price.

Only God can say, 'Never.'
Let God speak through me.
I will never intentionally make your heart sink,
but I will make you a promise
to make your heart soar
on the tireless wings of eagles.
I will take you to a place
where only angels are privileged to reside.
My shingle hung out on a star
full of wonder and surprise
beckoning you to come to me
to a land of miracles,
a land of Brides