Compassion died in me today.
Where empathy warmed my soul's hearth,
cold ash and half-burned logs stink of char and death.
I no longer care,
and no amount of wanting
brings caring back.

The timing of this escapes me–
it just is;
it has come as it has come.

Is this the dark night of my soul?
Is this the interior blinding of my spirit?
Hope has lost its way
in a forest of tall, dense trees,
where, as darkness falls,
eyes glow red between the branches.

Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.