Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2020
Death is to become sunshine,
To break open the self to the world,
In sunwheat gold and peasant hearth,
(The sun is the only empire of peasants)
Every grain of annihilation is still a seed,
And the sunlight carries the sleepless dead,
Their melted voices are warm upon our ears,
The sounds rooted in, but when we do not hear,
No more than the dead worshiping the dead.
Chris Saitta
Written by
Chris Saitta  52/M/Virginia
(52/M/Virginia)   
    416
         Stephen E Yocum, Ikimi Festus, ---, ---, Emmanuel Davies and 23 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems