Another Death

Where do words go to die?
Mine are absent
from these fragile life lines
for as I rest in their meaning
entangled in ever present sighs
rarely do I survive
half a minute of
my past or present time

By times my own emotions
I cannot consume without stolen breath
captured by the shadows long gone
by quietly rising thunder yet to partake—
mere seconds before the shake
where all pains, holding their name
nearly drown…
the still and calmest skies sheltered
from the ever crashing, flashing strikes
who meet at confusion—part on goodbyes

Where do words go to die?
How will my heart know the place
to release and cast each heavy weight
yet not have to last past that midnight cry?

Because each little note
and every last lingering hope
suffers upon the chasms
brought of the deafening chorus
and to simply wash them far away
would only be to
run from this reckless rhythm
believe the illusion
that nothing truly ever dies
in those hours the light is stolen away…

Carrie Gilbert 2016


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