Stifled
the old oak on the hill
extends its limbs towards me
offering as much comfort
as you this somber day
i sit beneath the willow
for it weeps with me
and cradles me
in its sweeping caress
my fingers tear
against frustration's flesh
the same as this jet stream
scratches an ashen sky
the clouds part
momentarily
before my now opened eyes
exposing the sky's soul
which appears to bleed
with less compassion
than me it seems
before it closes its wound
and hides the sun again
i struggle to breathe
in this cool mist rising
between the hush of sighs
and the stifle of tears
as they fall all around me
in puddles of last night's darkness
still rising in the dawn
of this day
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2020
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