Sunday, April 1, 2012

The Falling

the feathers were as stones
that pulled us down the maelstrom
when there were many waiting
for a chance to lift us out

blood turns black as tombstone words
pain unlatches from its purpose
the half-light shines with half-truth blurs
before it dims to darkness

because we think it does
and don't believe the voices
joyous in those open moments
when we're not alive in poisons

2 comments:

Jack said...
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Jack said...

Great melding of concept and imagery throughout.

Euphonious group here:

"and don't believe the voices
joyous in those open moments"