Quick Poem & Letter

by hiraeth   Nov 10, 2016


Let us go then, the usurped and I,
to wallow in molasses until
rainflowers blossom from
charcoal roots -

a token of temporary refuge
to reaffirm us that the
entire horizon is not
water.

when the evening falters because
she stole the sky's palette to rival Afremov;
let us go, to become wayfarers,
breakers of bread in barren lands,
planters of snowdrops in arctic fields.

when your blackbirds are grounded,
wings clipped or caged,
let us go, we'll carry in our hearts
your song and ours -

till the words swell into our lungs,
and there is no course
but to sing.

Let them go.

--------------------------------------

Take your bow to my throat and play - I'll sing you my song.

If you were to distill me; you'd be left with mucky syrup that's too saccharine to even entertain the thought of drizzling it over pancakes, but somehow the reality of that is captivating for you. Something analogous to finding sanctuary in crippling seas on a lone island that has nothing to offer but a temporary bed for seabirds and saline wells - you'd never be able to stay here permanently.

& that's perfectly okay, I'm suspended in amber as an instantaneous moment of calamity, a temporary refuge to remind you that not all of the horizon is water, and that land is near. I might not be able to swim with you there, but I'll be the lighthouse shining on it, until you get your bearings.

It's understandable for you to boil over with anger, till you blossom rose-thorns in the lining of your lungs and heart, without the flower. I'm a comfort inn amidst your crises; I never meant to be (or promised to be) your home away from home.

If you were to condense me into a word; it might be empathy. I let my roots grow into yours -

when you bleed, I bleed.
when you're parched, so am I.

I know the pains of waiting for the monsoon, and I know the hunger of waiting for sunshine in the fog. I would pull apart all my leaves, my flowers, my stem to give you all my sap; to sustain you until April cries, or June kisses you.

I've become the laconic, astute wanderer above the sea of fog, that calls the Salar de Uyuni home.

5


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Latest Comments

  • 1 year ago

    by Golden AnGel Rhapsodist

    Senryu,

    A freakin' awesome write. .. I can connect to the emotion you've thrown in every lines. ...

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    I know the pains of waiting for the monsoon, and I know the hunger of waiting for sunshine in the fog. I would pull apart all my leaves, my flowers, my stem to give you all my sap; to sustain you until April cries, or June kisses you.

    I've become the laconic, astute wanderer above the sea of fog, that calls the Salar de Uyuni home.
    ^^^^

    Love this
    GBY
    Gel

  • 1 year ago

    by Em

    As always this is stunning.

    when you bleed, I bleed.
    when you're parched, so am I.
    ^^
    For some reason these lines struck a chord with me, perfect.
    Em

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