Golden Gargoyle

if human beings
would treat other humans like
human beings too
perhaps the grief would not
spread like a stain
across the page of our
souls,
like the slow creep of
a winter's morning
frost,
reaching for the edges
of our eyes.
if human beings
could touch the skin
of another without
the weight of
the world's cruelty
crushing the life
from our fingertips,
then the thought of
death's cold grasp
would not
seep into the marrow
like a damp
unseasoned wood,
splitting apart
at the seams
of our
broken human hearts.