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notes from the heartArchive for confusion
Lonely Bard
Her heart
beats in time
to funereal drums
The pyre of her love
burns
quiet ritual
of loss
out to sea
again
How many
strains of lamentations
will she write
in one lifetime
words
spill like tears
alkaline white
drying in splotches
In their grief
she listened
now in hers
she sees their
backs
The lonely bard
dips her pen
and finds
her own
solace
1000
“Well, this has been interesting”
words that echo and multiply
in night’s turmoil
is it the sound
of 1000 rifles being cocked?
1000 doors being slammed?
do I feel 1000 slaps across
reddened cheeks?
Are 1000 gavels banging
on 1000 wooden blocks?
1000 beats of a penitent heart
pound against
worried sheets
twisting like rope
tortured windings
around arms that flail
become shackles in the night
more echoes come
do I hear
1000 keys opening
1000 doors?
1000 light bulbs clicked on
by 1000 switches?
1000 cages opened
releasing
1000 birds to their freedom
their fury to escape
shedding
1000 pillow muffled feathers?
sleep has no answers
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