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I couldn’t … shatter the pane or fly, either couldn’t press weary wings to wind … and glide for they were bound - wrapped like a leper in a crowd and just as unclean - just as … withered … pain is shadow, deep and sometimes a vaster darkness is it’s only clemency sometimes we drown to know our dearest breath or dangle by a moonbeam in the dead of night to bring the dew … for then, there is only the sake of agony - a whisper turned to screams that no one else can hear … but thunder called just the same - brought the soldiers, running a needle for salvation, and an abyss … all it’s own. Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, April 16, 2023

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Daniel Turner

Date: 4/28/2023 11:04:00 AM

Been there and done that! "running a needle for slavation and an abyss" Hello Greg:) A pleasure to read you today. I hope all is well with you and yours. Enjoy your weekend my friend.

Ann Peck

Date: 4/27/2023 3:47:00 PM

So hauntingly beautiful. "to dangle by a moonbeam in the dead of night.."

Sam Kauffman

Date: 4/27/2023 10:27:00 AM

Hey Greg! So wonderful to see your majestic words on the soup again!!! Rich imagery, flowing lyricism, dramatic ending all masterfully blended into a poem of dynamic energy! Thank you for sharing your wonderful talent! Blessings my friend!

Lin Lane

Date: 4/27/2023 8:37:00 AM

Hi Greg. Your metaphors speak as loudly to me as ever. "...dangle a moonbeam in the dead of night." To feel such pain that it becomes deeper than a shadow is to know the depth of that abyss. It's good to read you after so long.