渴望英雄

——写给勇士田锋

                                                                     今夜        我不想写诗

                                                                     我的心有一把锁

                                                                     就像浓雾

                                                                     攥紧了拳头

                                                                     一个人        一个人从鲜红的

                                                                     血光中

                                                                     穿过唐诗宋词

                                                                     走进了三月的春天

                                                                     走进了黑夜迷惘的眼睛

                                                                     夜是三月寂寞的草坪

                                                                     南方三月的雾总是很酽

                                                                     窗台上不断落下

                                                                     路人淅沥的脚步

                                                                     惊乱了我翻书的思绪

                                                                     此刻        我不想写诗

                                                                     我燃起一支烟

                                                                     站在烽火四起的世界地图前

                                                                     透过烟头的红光

                                                                     我的凝眸弥满和平的渴望

                                                                     在这缺乏英雄的年代

                                                                     我们习惯了只是去做一个人

                                                                     于是        在物质的外壳里

                                                                     在钢筋水泥的丛林中

                                                                     我们又一次不约而同地

                                                                     袖手旁观

                                                                     任凭一颗邪恶的子弹

                                                                     嚣张地侵入正义圆睁的视线……

                                                                      我站在暗夜的角落

                                                                      一种音乐的情感

                                                                      缓缓升起

                                                                      劈开坚硬的皮肤

                                                                      黑暗        从未如此鲜明地

                                                                      深入我的血脉

                                                                      欧阳海    雷锋    安柯    徐洪刚……

                                                                      如今        又一个陌生的名字

                                                                      拨痛了我的生活

                                                                       这是一个脆弱的季节

                                                                       我仿佛又见到

                                                                       鲁迅先生那悲凉的身影

                                                                       正用一支投枪

                                                                       向我扎来

                                                                       守望麦田的人们啊

                                                                       英雄是一条河

                                                                       在一茬接一茬的星夜

                                                                       让理智的淬火

                                                                       沉入刀锋        深入石头的内壁

                                                                       英雄         此刻

                                                                       我正握你的名字在我羸弱的手中

                                                                       就像握住一团火