The Dying Body Chronicles 24: Furnishings now empty of warmth
How do you write your name
in the language of grief?
Do you put each letter
between silent hyphens?
Do you count the vowels
for wailing & gnashing of teeth?
How do you put the bones
of your palms into prayer?
& the naked absence of sound,
how do you explain it to your god?
Do you even sleep?
& when you are wide awake,
do you dream of how hollow
your room sounds without those
furnishings of warm bodies?
Do you remember which letter
starts your monologue
to your blurred face
under the shower?
Do you hear your body scream?
How do you visit that emptiness?
Do you drive or do you walk down
that gulf? & what did you find
at the ravine of your chest?
Do you remember the language
of amnesia? Can you forget
how a body curls into itself
before their gods?
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I upvoted you, thank you for posting! 👍
You always create such beautiful imaginary and I am always happy to go on this creative journey with you, as you weave your words into magical poems and tales xxxxx
Thank you @trucklife-family. I am glad you liked this one.
Excellent poem, of a great polemic lyrical force. Its images, in the real and the surreal, confront us with the conflict of the expression of the truth of being in the face of pain and loneliness, before its transcendence by the word. Thank you and best regards, @warpedpoetic.
Thank you very much
This is a superb write. I like how you paired seemingly unconnected concepts.
Thank you @moeknows