Edward Ibeh Poet Free verse

Notes About The Poem

Date written: 04/28/2026

To What End?

we pile the stones -
well, we try to -
until our knuckles bleed 
for what? a wall?
 or just a tower for the blind? 
i forget which... 
the dirt doesn't care 
about the holy seed
it only eats, 
well, it eats the things 
we leave behind.
i found a rusted key -
actually, it was more of a shard 
inside the well, 
which fits a door 
that hasn't existed for years, 
or perhaps never did  
we're just ringing a cracked bell 
a silver one. 
shh...can you hear that? 
i'm washing out the old salt 
with dry tears, 
the map? it's just a knot 
of tangled gray hair. 
the compass needle just points back 
to where I've already stood.  
i'm climbing up a broken stair.
a ghost-light? sure... 
just to see if the view 
is even any good.

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I Am Anaya April 29, 2026 at 3:35 PM ...when tears are all dried up, there is no place left to go but within~ A great read, with impact, with conviction, Edward. Blessings Edward Ibeh April 30, 2026 at 5:39 AM Thank you so much, Anaya:-)

Kim Rodrigues April 29, 2026 at 1:26 PM the compass needle just points back to where I've already stood…a fun write! Edward Ibeh April 30, 2026 at 5:38 AM Thank you very much, Kim:-)

Lin Lane April 29, 2026 at 10:46 AM Edward, I have to say this is one of your most interesting I think I've read from you. Your concept of the dirt eating what things we leave behind is thought-provoking and decidedly true. Reminds of the scripture of dust to dust. Makes one wonder... to what end its all consumed... we're all consumed. I loved reading this one. Edward Ibeh April 29, 2026 at 4:18 PM Thank you very much for the wonderful feedback and visit, Lin:-)