Getting Up After the Blow

Cover Image

Heart beating — ticks like an old clock

Whose hands have become ashen and grey

Heat spreading across like an unmanned wildfire

Taking away the homes and comfort of the helpless

Heavy arms, sodden, slouching under the weight of an undiscovered galaxy

Underneath and behind those heavy sticks and stones

Ribs crushed, unmoving, lungs invalid

Limbs numb, mouth aflame with unflinching pain

So many sticks coming from within, splinters resting on tongues

Eyes and ears alive…No pain, only senses

Pupils growing, vantage point stretching to the horizon,

in hopes a savior

Squinting up at the clouds, in search of a single silver lining

Twitching, itching, waiting for the sound of sirens,

A declaration of a safe haven

               Still waiting

Beside, acquainted with those bothersome sticks and stones

Fingers grazing the gravel, allotted with the dirt

Embedded with splinters, completely unaware

Eyes roving over the cataclysm and calamity, to find some tranquil refuge:

               A lake, a flower, and a bee

What was that? A voice…a rescue

Above and in front of the sticks and stones

Lungs alive and new, air fresh and cool

Nerves set alight, fingertips sensible

the air is cool

Horizon, no rescue

Clouds, no silver lining

No declaration of a safe haven

A declaration of self

Recognition, respect, pride


Created: Apr 03, 2014

Tags: poetry, free-verse

AsininePOET Document Media