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Click hereWhenever the dove falls
I see horizons bathed in blood
And Man's fall from grace with himself
Am pierced by a bolt
That sears through the soul.
Maybe I am too soft in the center.
There is such a knowledge of pain in your poetry. And not in a self pitying "Oh woah is me" way. You acknowldege it and accept it with a sense of humility. It would be most interesting to know what lies under the many layers that cover your centre.
. . . of the sensitive, feeling human being so compactly stated. "Too soft in the center" it hurt, piercingly . . .