melissaahowells
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are you the child with the black crayon in his fist scribbling with one color until an entire page is filled in and no one's line is distinguishable from any other is that what its like to be one without words or a shadow the snow in the air surprised me the horizon line the low-flying sparrows obliterated and earth became sky and sky became earth all the air quieted is this the muffle of leaden grief the world too much sitting on my chest my words no longer speak the dampness of my heart has blanketed my last word the yellow yolk made the journey to the far side of the world where its met the horizon of a new day but I'm not there I'm stuck in the world of darkness I'm told that's where I live and belong as if it was my home I know I've never been home my shoes have never been set upon a mat I'm worn down from traveling the ruts of darkened dirty streets I'm been in every city and you can see me but you never look but only look away I am the unknowable the other-other the inconceivable the misery and the miserable the thing you step over and move out of your way. LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 3:21PM PST TIME AND DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS POET/WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE- MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE AND DREAMED BEFOREHAND. Vote for this poem |
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