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Whither Blows the Wind
Sarcophagus beetles gnaw on these bones buried in the catacombs They still have zombie feast needs of me long after I’m gone The scratching on the whited stones of the sunken mausoleum, brings the chorus of the viol worms to life Crawling through my empty eye sockets, planarian pleas are unsightly ... dirt given with an inaudible drone Whither doth the wind blow this nether dirge song? Why canst the cold, October tarrying rain not replenish the dead root thoughts that once sprouted strong? And the ravens sing with the crows; atop the barren autumn trees, ready to wear their bleak, winter coat As my body lays stripped naked in the lowest part of the shipwrecked boat Foggy, drunken indifference was the cause of the coral reef crash The muffled screams of the ghastly drownings, haunted the fear-stricken survivors’ sleep ... it seems like forever Whither didst the wind blow tragic notes of how it all went wrong? Why canst the gathering dark clouds not warn others to forbear trying to travel through the tight rock bowels, which are peril prone? I wonder doth the night owl ponder my fate? Her shrill, wail hoots asking the full mourn moon: Will my dead mariner thoughts ever sail stern strong, with the wind to my back again?
Copyright © 2024 Freddie Robinson Jr.. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs