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
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2017
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