Sarah Murdock

Sarah Murdock Jun 2011

Heart shaped mistakes were carved into trees
Love before we knew we could carve ourselves…

They stand tall…
Illustrating that timeless pain
That only love can cause
When the proof withstands the rain…

I am not as breathtaking as the Autumn,

And you’ve been dreaming of scarecrows and falling leaves,

So don’t make me fall… If I’m not what you need,

My name’s already been carved into too many trees.

Sarah Murdock May 2011

Upon All Which We've Relied

An ode to me you sing

Bright as candles
from a second story window
flickering prayerless faith

Shadowed fears,
writhing,
the pain screams in agony to itself
for I feel none

None
with those eyes above mine
that chest against this one
and your voice by my ears

Together breathless,
***** streetlamp reflections
beneath puddles
you pant my name from above me

Rasping ghost like
cigarettes as sound
pound
pound
pound
due to an addictive habit

But smoking aside
and all else upon which we’ve relied…
love is the flame
of which I’ve the most pride

Sarah Murdock May 2011

Raj

Oh insightful
Second Chance seeking daughter
Sought after naught

Calamity Jane admirer
Calling shots
With self admitted pistol witted tongue

Relentlessly repenting
For those unrelenting, circumventing
Qualms we harbor

Oh preacher of improvements
Through movements
From sidewalks

Cardboard sign holding beggar of change
Street hustling
To the pocket rustling
Public

Let’s course correct
Let’s resurrect
This hope we’ve buried deep
The climb is steep
But the prize we’ll reap
Will be nothing less than perfect

Sarah Murdock May 2011

Awkward Shaped Hearts

hearts,
shaped awkward
and angled into points,
drop like hair falling on a gown
graceless as feathers in rain
molted from birds leaving home
one season too early
and one morning too late for the worm…

black bend shadow in a corner facing left,

when she peeks,
her face
like her handwriting
curves
and her contour becomes his detour...

when he speaks,
his lips move like typewriters.
the smacking,
like fingers on rusting, archaic keys,
turns her mood
‘67 radio dial style:
up
L O U D E R...

but she is slow motion,
soft, surreal and in fear of circumspection

and he is a reel,
black and white and in need of projection…

Sarah Murdock May 2011

I Fly By Night

I fly by night
from window to window
perching
just beyond thresholds
protected by glass
so breakable
yet so impenetrable
like eyes
unblinking
but firm in the beliefs felt behind them…

… And I dare not shatter a single serendipitous shard
so not to wake
from dreams
hearts still unfettered
reliant upon love
rather than feathers
to aid them in flight…

…And I urge with words mouthed but not spoken
to panes unopened:
“Tell again,
bleakly and oh so meekly
of the life we’ve built towards ruin”

For builders not were we to be
human hands
no different
whether clasping in prayer
or grasping through air… for flight

And so I fly by night...lost

And like stars burning to go home
In a night sky remaining still
I
With wings spread
Land upon each and every splintered or cemented sill
Searching
For a somethingnothingsomewherenowhere
Once the feathers molt

— The End —