STILLBORN
STILLBORN
So like a tree
Inside a storm
Weeps her leaves
To save herself
So too you weep
A womb, your keep
Lonliness
You are inborn
Your tangled hair
In tortoise shell
Combs that hold
The shadows there
A heart in need
Allegro beat
A blackened well
Once wishes fell
With furrowed brow
The winds that howl
Beyond the walls
Are muffled now
The barren lea
But she is free
To fast and feast
The carnival
Inside the gloam
So one forlorn
A eulogy
For one, stillborn
roc
Gloam - The time of day immediately following sunset.
One winter I stood at the base of a very old, very tall tree. Her trunk of bark with it's deep groves and ridges reminded me of a well travelled road to a horizon where the branches canopied chaotic to infinite possible futures never chosen.
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