In the Desert

I was flipping through a book of Stephen Crane's poetry in the library today and the pages fell open to this poem, which just popped back into my memory. I hate to admit it after complaining bitterly through my American Lit class, but I do enjoy his poetry. It's so short and enigmatic but makes me think.

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter – bitter", he answered,
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."