Turned Into

Shall I bleed for you again, my aged friend...?
Destruction of this little life it took so long to mend.
Is that your one last wish, left unfulfilled...?
How is it that you sit there, oh so still...?
Will my suffering become another thrill
to keep you hanging on in time...?

A mother's love turned into so much other.
A father's will - abandoning the family again.
Another twist, the danger of a turn.
Steep, the declination starts to burn.
Brothers wishing sisters dead
as if they hadn't always bled too much.

Waiting for a long lost touch
of tenderness to reach the flesh again.
Even great desires need to end.
Wandering too far from home
to tend the endless garden of the heart.
From far away, a resonation starts.
Like violins that weep themselves
into the arid sands of time and place.
Echoing the horns of their disgrace.

The grief upending moments thought divine.
Throughout the maze, the weeds will climb.
Insinuating chimes, funereal.
A movie set, a stage. It can't be real.
Crawling on the ground. Too blind to feel.
The loss, the gain. The joy, the pain.
Toppling their cold serenity.
Brutish movements bring them to their knees.

Buried prayers growing fast, within
those muddy fields of flesh.
Searching for the sense of a release.
All awash within a sodden breeze.
Humidity to wash away
illusions of the modern day.
The lights are out. The fires burning.
Turned into an emptiness,
an ever, endless churning
of the heart...

? Michaelette ?

7/3/2004
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .