“CRUSHED” by Shawna Dyer

I’d heard of the birds  

with crushed wings. 

 

A hand grasping them 

too tightly.  

 

I have been searching for  

words  

 

to use  

when expressing how  

 

it feels to see the grim reaper  

at your own door, 

 

but only in retrospect.  

For him to make his  

 

home in your heart. 

Even if he is not physically  

 

with you.   

The form of a man; 

 

the predator we 

almost anticipate.  

 

Is it really considered  

“profiling” 

 

if the stereotype is true?