In the desert

Original photograph by Ryan Cheng. Modified under Unsplash’s free license for artistic transformation by Ashmore.

Stephen Crane wrote an immortal fragment in 1895.

It touched me.
A creature, not named a demon, ate its own heart.
As I eat my own heart every day.

This poem has a truth that only a few will ever touch.

It is one of the few I carry inside me.

In the desert

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;

“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”

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