Shrapnel

Infants present too small

a target to be hit,

but anyone reaching adulthood

is riddled with disquiet

 

as troubles zip

through your soul

like charged particles

in a cloud chamber.

 

You won’t see tiny

stigmata marking the flesh.

but the spirit flags

under their bombardment.

 

Isolated hearts shatter

from that barrage,

blasted like beer bottles

settled on a rail fence.

 

Love might do

as a lead shield

but most find it too much

of a burden to carry for long.

Chris Bullard, a native of Jacksonville, Florida, has published twelve books of poetry. He lives in Philadelphia, where he is currently in hospice care for lung disease.