We, Of the Bleeding Hearts
We, of the bleeding hearts,
tend our little fires in the encroaching dark
as we have always done,
as we will always do,
even as we recognize less and less in the world,
even as the wolves circle closer
baring their teeth, snarling.
We cannot help ourselves,
we sing the songs within us,
the prayers, the incantations,
we whisper our hopes,
the dreams we will not relinquish,
our hands reaching out to touch
their beautiful pelts.
- David Ades 2016
David Ades is a Sydney poet returned to the fold after a long stint in that troubled federation north of the line. He has been nominated for numerous awards, including the Pushcart Poetry Prize and the inaugural 2014 University of Canberra Vice-Chancellor's International Poetry Prize.