Sunday, June 21, 2015


Dust settling
Noise, diffused
Quiet cascades, controls
What do you hear, in the quiet of your room?
The sound of loss,
From those you left?
You've hushed your conscience even, I think
Crowded out the curiosity of how they now look
With a thick, thick blanket of shame.

I knew you once
Even in your difficulty,
You moved with feeling.
Crippled in that fork-in-the-road
Where your detour knocked you dense.
Nothing in your pocket ever mattered, save the grace in your hard-working hands.

Bruised forever, I think
By the void of your loss.

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