THAT WISE BIRD

PHOTO BY PEXELS

A hollow in my heart.

Dungeon borders my soul,

Heavily guarded by an army of woes.

Dejection tramples on my spirit,

Kindred connections disbarred.

There is murkiness in the distance,

The road marred with desolation.

Oh this deafening silence!

Pungent taste of reality;

A realm I now dwell in.

Compression infests my movement,

But I persevere.

Stare without blinking,

Yawn without sleeping…

This pain is heavy.

Yet the notion to proceed persists within.

Song of the Sparrow,

In the touching distance.

Whistle of serenity; a sound of hope.

In an instant, my despondency effaced,

Like a mid evening fog.

I exhaled, with such precision.

The soldiers retreated and left for home,

Just as I was going home…

Never will I look back.

Should the pathway behind crumble,

Like an ill-fated stack of dominoes,

I will not see.

With the winds of change blowing at my side,

A singing Sparrow to symbolically guide.

Forward motion is now my stride…

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

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