The desert has her voice.
The night has her voice.
The road has her voice.
She leaves the sound.
She cannot stand
still with her voice.
If there are words
they do not matter
as much as the pain
outrage complaint
disgust disappointment
she flings into a blank night.
We hear it go from her
into the ground below
feeding that grass, those stones,
all we must stand upon tomorrow.
I really like the resonances the repetitions set up and the hint of a mythic quality that comes out of that. So something feels vaguely unsettled in lines 9-11 which just seems a little out of keeping with your tone in the rest of it. This is not criticism though as you might have intended something else. I really think this is wonderful
ReplyDeleteAnother good one...
ReplyDeleteIt inspired me. Thank you, Kevin.
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