Image: © Giulia Asselta.
Author: A S
Soft shivers delayed
Teeming tears kept at bay
By a long-forgotten memory of warmth.
A spark not-indifferent
Born of hope and fulfillment
Which have gathered in dust from eons ago.
Sifting and trembling
Those arms lifted daintily
Crushing and calming the silent recluse.
Quiet embers of a past
Lit ablaze by torrential gasps
A reminder of what it means to sleep.
That shivering sky
Emitting no reason
to the beat of a heart.
As if were reflected
A tune of inflection
Crying and screaming
and pulling apart.
But where there is healing
Conceal not your breathing
And stumbling, carefully
Stride into the dark.
In the midst of your waking dreams
Three whispers stop by, each begging
To listen. The first caressing and cooing
The second tickling and tingling
While the last, stares at you in silence.
And peeking you crouch below
Reaching for strands thin as noise
Those things which you wear on your shoulders
And on your head. Yet you shiver
And suddenly straighten, brushing those short strands
aside, while your gaze stops to grasp the moon.
And crawling, your heart clutches
at the whispers, calling to scream
On the ramparts of my heart the trumpets are blowing
Not for victory but rather, a cry for truth.
As ragged and tired men go home and weep
For loss of understanding that they do seek
Belated tears fill sorry eyes
to endless sighs
But a promise of song lifts their hearts and their eyes
Brimming with tremor,
Booming in Upheaval
Can you hear the rain?