Unbound
This being beyond the expected, this
Still here. First the almost, the the animal
Which was to save or at least provide
Another chance, but now will not allow
Any near, even as unfettered. My father, finished
With sacrifice, left. Many have come to this field
To wait. The more they wait the more
They also leave, only to return again with others
Until the field is filled with waiting. And here am I
Who withheld nothing. And there the white
Always in the tree. You go
Where you need to go until it does not
Matter. You do not matter. There is
The window. Open. Now go through.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
