Conspiracy
Stinging sensations dancing across my staring globes.
Unable to blink.
The deep brown of the mud puddle
may reflect my aching heart,
oozing pain,
but I can’t see.
I don’t know.
A lead weight thumping away
longs to be free of its prison.
Why does it feel so heavy?
Why does it seem so full?
As if all the sorrow in a 5’4 frame
could be centered in that one little organ.
What is a heart
that it should wish to fly like a bird?
No,
leave soaring to the winged, freedom
to those who are free,
enrichment to the rich and give
the pitiful their pity,
nothing more.
A treacherous thing, this heart:
it does its job with a grumble and a sigh-
but conspires to drown the townsfolk
in their beds.
For it has some strange connection with the holes
in the dikes
that keep the ocean,
keep emotion,
tucked away.
Copyright © Hana Ryusaka | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment