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Hari Kari
by
Brian Cheung
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Walking through the park one afternoon,
I came upon a distressing sight.
A man with a knife in his chest.
Yet strangest of all,
(For stabbings really aren't all that strange)
the man was unworried, reflective.
Hesitantly I asked
the normal, inane things.
(How do you treat an impaled person?)
"Are you all right? Do you need help?
As he answered he calmly
grasped the knife,
cut from sternum to pelvis
and reached in.
"I'm trying to find the secrets of life,
from the inside out so to say.",
suiting his actions to his words
by pulling out his liver.
Laying this by his side
glistening, shining
he reached in again, removing his spleen,
and his stomach, and his intestines,
to sit among the blades of grass--
a hospital rummage sale.
For a time he did this,
then lastly grasped his heart
and pulled.
This he studied
pulsing, beating,
holding it to the sun.
At last he sighed,
"I had hoped...
He stopped, light dawning in his eyes
"So simple, so simple.", he murmured.
The man turned to me,
opened his mouth
and
Promptly died.
I never did find that man's untold wisdom.
Though I never forgot that afternoon,
And now I wonder,
with curiosity that burns harder and fiercer
What things, what ideas passed before
his eyes as he sat
in that late autumn sun.
Perhaps one day
when the curiosity grows too strong,
I too will sit in the grass
and pull out my soul.
by
Brian Cheung
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Walking through the park one afternoon,
I came upon a distressing sight.
A man with a knife in his chest.
Yet strangest of all,
(For stabbings really aren't all that strange)
the man was unworried, reflective.
Hesitantly I asked
the normal, inane things.
(How do you treat an impaled person?)
"Are you all right? Do you need help?
As he answered he calmly
grasped the knife,
cut from sternum to pelvis
and reached in.
"I'm trying to find the secrets of life,
from the inside out so to say.",
suiting his actions to his words
by pulling out his liver.
Laying this by his side
glistening, shining
he reached in again, removing his spleen,
and his stomach, and his intestines,
to sit among the blades of grass--
a hospital rummage sale.
For a time he did this,
then lastly grasped his heart
and pulled.
This he studied
pulsing, beating,
holding it to the sun.
At last he sighed,
"I had hoped...
He stopped, light dawning in his eyes
"So simple, so simple.", he murmured.
The man turned to me,
opened his mouth
and
Promptly died.
I never did find that man's untold wisdom.
Though I never forgot that afternoon,
And now I wonder,
with curiosity that burns harder and fiercer
What things, what ideas passed before
his eyes as he sat
in that late autumn sun.
Perhaps one day
when the curiosity grows too strong,
I too will sit in the grass
and pull out my soul.
