The deeper the veins
of a silent rising
fountainhead reach,
awaking a muse
more chilling
than the truth
in the blood ―
a cold
stillness stirs
that lets me
feel an
unheeded sigh
cast in the wind
A breathe
of words
from a sudden
burst of silence,
tossed like a
handful of dust
lost in a rush
of wind ―
a beclouded
murmur fleeted;
holding your breath
as the aching
passion
manifest,
no longer
containable
I really wonder
if you even know
or care
who's behind
the dark
cracked glass ―
you learn to live
with what’s broken
to survive...
learning to look
in the eyes
of a dark horse
in a tight-lipped mirror,
to hear what’s
pushed back down
unswallowed
Staring down
the muted throat
of the voiceless;
feeling the anxiety
of held breath,
turning blue
afraid to exhale
If you look
at these words
and remember
there was nothing
left to lose,
then you'll see
the meaning ―
I don't need
to hear you
tell me to re-lock
all the doors
I wish I never opened;
knowing there are
still moments
when it leaks out
of my silence
Someday,
at first light,
a songbird
hearkens
the morning
dew's passage;
I’ll take heed
a song
of deliverance
and rise up
from
bended knees ...
but right now
I’m still learning
how to live alone
Jesse e Stillwater
02 May 2018
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Note to readers: Thanks a lot for reading the things I've shared publicly the past few months. Many comments I shared intended to support others' work, fell to silence, so my apologies if I ****** you off not knowing the unpublished site map. Its hard to know here; perplexing when you're just a simple unknown trying to just be. For now I'm just going back to being more of a reserved reader until I've got a better idea of which way the wind blows...