For Those With An Idle Heart Poem by Mimi Mata

I will make a proclaimation
For those with an idle heart:
Still at its bases
Unable to identify
A turn for a conquest.

Why are you so still?
Why do you question my rhethorical attempts?

Space cannot even adapt
A measure for those huge infinite orbits
Rotating continuously in the dark;
Sacrificing nothing in expense
To know the soft warm grace of the sun.

Where is the grace and strength
Your mother taught you?

And your father taught you better
Than to imagine shooting a bullet through a man,
That degraded all your humanly standards.

Goddamn woman...

Every word of wisdom
Taking flight from your starving hands,
Your ignorance only knowing
Merciless ron de vou's with denial.

That is the devil's way of forgiving...
You will never know the eyes of a saint
When you look through them.

Your grandmother's turning in her grave...

Pleading for God to forgive
The mis-steps you make
In those red heels...

Take them off child,

And look at your calloused feet
That endured thorned distances
The many miles you walked solemnly
Blinded in the dark...

The arms that you find there
Only cradling your non-existance...

I will make a proclaimation
For my idle heart
A turn for a conquest.

To know the soft warm grace of the sun;
To embrace the many miles...
Where I walked alone solemnly.