Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
Narrative | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print |

The Last Call

I knew she was leaving when she walked through the door, I knew she was going when she kept asking for the final score, I knew she was going from the
moment she starts singing, her voice was dying 
her spirit was crying and the building starts shaking
The heavens was bending low showing her which way to
go.I saw it all from the top of the hill,the marching
band and the minstrel chiming in. Curious spectators line up
on both side of the street looking deep into  the
multitude marched towards the historical
Trail that will finally break the concrete gate
I saw it all from top of the hill and I could feel my
heart beating rapidly and my tempreature rising slowly
I could feel the heat dangling under my feet and my
desires running wild in the street.Everyone 
strike a pose infront of me and it makes
me feel very unhappy,women of class and men of
low degree stood infront of me and mumble a few
words underneath their breath.
I find it rude when they stand directly
Infront of me and start shaking their heavy set body.
The multitude is pulling my energy and the ocean
is rising with the wind, my knees are taking refuge
underneath the tree, and hope is pulling me out of
the sea.I stood on top of the hill listening to the
silent music playing from within, the politician
with a brawl shouting a message that
has already been heard and is buried beneath
the tomb in the center of the cathedral next to
The  crucifix and low it bears an old message
carved out on stone where mercy could not be found
I have tried to figure it out but minstral began to
shout and so the procession marched on with
hands holding hands, fist tightly clenched with a
conviction as tough as a lion.They gather in the stadium
to hold conference, shouts echoed above the wall
With a message that made them look,tall hearts join 
with hearts, and everyone has a feel of the final taste
I knew she was going when she starts  dancing
Funny move funny strides and red lipstick
painted on her thick lips and words were 
dripped slowly as she moved to finalize the trip
The journey was long ,and the crowd watched her
as she walked briskly on the  big stage  to
Speak truth to power.She raised her hands and the
crowd got wild, she raised her hands again and
The crowd listen silent to the final creation of history
I stood on top of the hill and saw it all
I knew she was going when they looked at me and grin
She never looked back but she kept walking unto victory.

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2020

Please Login to post a comment