Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Defeat

Not a hanging word
Not a sighing act
Not a shameful flag
Not a sword crashing down
It lingers in the eyes
Eyes like broken glass
Eyes a lazy gray
like cigarette smoke
swirling with the embers
of fading flames
With drooping lids
like lonely curtains
closing out the light
It rests on the hands
like a shadow glove
Hands with pencil bones
and grandfather lines
that whisper stories
It whistles out
with every breath
It tears the soul
like a knife through a sail
A sobbing farewell
Goodbye! Goodbye!
Like falling through
a sea of sheets
thin and soft
But it is not a bullet
Nor a dagger
Not final nor concrete
The wise can wear it
like a gliding cape
to give them wings
and fly to victory