Who Broke It

Who Broke It! He finally broke, after hours of intense interrogation, caved in, signed the confession stating that it was he who broke poetry. It was not intentional. He just strayed a little too far past the fence line, looked deep enough to see the train tracks re-emerge, cross in the distance and begin again. It had seemed so inconsequential, words written in the heat of passion, or pain, divulging the secrets of the poet, dancing to a cadence of his own, speaking in a voice newly reclaimed, a voice unafraid of the rules or the rulers, a tone as clear as thunder echoing through a distant valley. Yet he was, is, guilty. He broke poetry. He broke it into tiny pieces of his soul and fed the ache he saw in others, the need of gentle words, or purging passion, the roar of roiling seas crashing on the rocks, giggling in retreat through sand filled fissures. He had done it! Written without knowledge of the structure, dared to skip a stone where none had thrown, made love to words and phrases feasting on the lustiness of same, knowing that the penalty for breakage is to own it and then to take it home. He is the glue that holds a broken thing together, the strength that binds the words with heart and fire, knowing it is not his job to fix it - but to hold and love the pieces that he finds. 7/23/2013 submitted to – Broken – Poetry Contest