Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2009

Sacre coeur

by Steve Brodie

Without a soul, it is said that humanity would enact the beast. 
Intruding into a lower study of anthropological being.
Scavenging less wanton carrion to seek out a meagre living.
And even if consumed in copious quantity, would still fail
to be classified as any creature worth forgiving.
Or least, not sharing in the Darwinian feast.

Without a mind, humanity becomes the open invitation.
Fitting itself to the mercy of extraterrestrial compassion.
Becoming the stage for any tempestuous, unwanted spasm.
And even if implanted with some intergalactic aid,
Would still fail to view Earth with any dream to re-fashion.
And re-callibration would not reverse the circuit's privation.

Without function, humanity endures the artist's pose.
Positioning itself into an apathetically landscaped frame.
Fused in perpetuity, to be progressively overlaid.
And even if the creator paid such detail to the form,
That it obtained the comparative of a hard and constant rain,
Would still fail to reach it's destiny down some culvert or drain.
So with no dispose, the image is forever froze.

But without a heart, humanity has no right to any existence.
No right of soul to struggle with bestial correction.
No right of mind to combat alien insurrection.
And even if gravity constructed the whole universe again,
And followed the same, intricate pattern for all creation,
Would still fail to register for any evolutionary distance.
Because without one, beloved, sacred heart,
Our entire being holds no deliverance.

Added: 09.04.2009