Behind Each Pair Of Glowing Eyes Poem by Heath Gunn

The ponderings of wise men,
The chuntering of fools.
That they will make up their own minds,
How to observe the rules.
That you or I may both lay down,
Our lives for common folk.
But how they try humiliate,
Those whom at fun they poke.

The baby crying, starving,
The terrorist, strapped with bomb.
Somewhere, someday they all had,
A Father and a Mom.

For we all start from somewhere,
On this journey we call life.
But no-one can prepare you,
For your battles or your strife.
Behind each pair of glowing eyes,
In side each sculptured head.
Are fears and recognitions,
Of that which we most dread.

Our nightmares are exclusive,
Our pain remains our own.
And though we try to share it,
There is no real way to show,
What’s going on inside us,
To the people passing by.
And the first that they know of our pain,
Is when we’ve upped and died.

Heath Gunn