Getting Up After the Blow

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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


Unflinching

Created: Apr 03, 2014

Tags: poetry, free-verse

AsininePOET Document Media