Isolation
In isolation mull the severed links,
chain corroded thoughts as keens the winter chill;
though shines a sun, strangely cold;
this mind sculpts only cognitive ice.
With rodent greed the hemlock grief it drinks,
stagnant pools of ancient rain lie still;
their primal fears recoil, grow old,
removed, reincarnated once or twice.
Feasting on the hand me down concealing,
filtered through the caverns of a heart;
they marvel at the monster they created,
his tears never shed, nor ever cried.
Only I know garrisons of feeling,
beaten and chastised and chained apart;
miss her more than they anticipated;
something in me died…
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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