The Kiss of Life – A Poem

What was the fuss: over the wingless dove: when nothing is left? (Photo: File)

By Chris Lane

is a cold plunge from the womb
to a mother’s warm breast
for kittens and kids the lick of a rasping tongue
for desert life, rare droplets of water
for chimps clasping hands.

living is an enormous void
an incalculable, unpredictable present
a confusion of choices
simply given, simply taken away.
one genetic mistake forever embedded.

birthed in the right western polar region
schooled in correct politics
reeking a rank odour
carried by a mindless mindset
exuding catastrophic disaster,
for the lost land of milk and honey
a kiss from distorted lips.

birthed in the wrong camp
the other side of the green line
the sniper’s bullet
recycled poverty, military occupation
arteries turning white concrete slabs red
an untimely death ensures
recuperation and respiratory resistance.
the kiss of the asp.

lie is short they say
a swift second flip of the page
but for lovers dazzled by a full moon
diamanté starlets
living is forever
defying mortality
the kiss of fragile lust.

death a bitter-sweet kiss goodbye
it arrives as a fatal shock
a firework revealing its secrets.
a balloon suddenly bursting
spitting out dreams
into oblivion.

those who stand over us
wonder what was it all about,
what was the fuss
over the wingless dove
when nothing is left?

such brave brilliance suddenly turned
to bare bones and dust
a bomb blast choking the sky
a soul slipping irrevocably away
surrendered to the kiss of fire.

I can but wonder why the journey
why the relentless energy
why anything at all,
it was but a fleeting passage
that kiss of life!

– Chris Lane is a reluctant writer and has lived illegally in the Occupied Territories of Palestine for many years. Lane contributed this article to

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