Whither Blows the Wind
Sarcophagus beetles gnaw on these bones
buried in the catacombs
They still have zombie feast needs of me
long after I’m gone
The scratching on the whited stones
of the sunken mausoleum,
brings the chorus of the viol worms to life
Crawling through my empty eye sockets,
planarian pleas are unsightly ... dirt given
with an inaudible drone
Whither doth the wind blow
this nether dirge song?
Why canst the cold, October tarrying rain
not replenish the dead root thoughts
that once sprouted strong?
And the ravens sing with the crows;
atop the barren autumn trees,
ready to wear their bleak, winter coat
As my body lays stripped naked
in the lowest part of the shipwrecked boat
Foggy, drunken indifference
was the cause of the coral reef crash
The muffled screams of the ghastly drownings,
haunted the fear-stricken survivors’ sleep ...
it seems like forever
Whither didst the wind blow
tragic notes
of how it all went wrong?
Why canst the gathering dark clouds
not warn others to forbear
trying to travel through the tight rock bowels,
which are peril prone?
I wonder doth the night owl ponder my fate?
Her shrill, wail hoots asking the full mourn moon:
Will my dead mariner thoughts
ever sail stern strong,
with the wind to my back again?
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018
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