First the silence, a dark cast, a shadow
Stretching farther and farther, they cower below
Whispers and secrets sweep through the trees
A quiet language, not one spoken, but heard by the leaves
Anticipation is felt, a chill chases through us all
Just before a quiet hush, rain has yet to fall
Shelter is sought out, to hide
In caves, the ground, homes they abide
Seeking out the kind earth, warmly hidden
Far from the sky, they have huddled to listen
Soon, soon there is nothing, no sound
No more whispers nor secrets to be found
The leaves no longer listen to their song
The trees voices seem to have gone
The shadow envelops, suffocating in it's silence
Waiting for something, something to tip the balance
And the lightning strikes, light filling the air
The hammer falls, in the silence, a clumsy tear
Yet that is enough, the rain begins to fall
Answering to the storm's roaring call
The wind howls, rushing through the sky
No more whispers, but a screaming cry
In this raging storm stands a figure, alone
The cold rain, wind, piercing him to the bone
Not numb, but lacking the ever present pain
Washed away, the sorrows, by the pouring rain
Swept away, to join their howling kin
His voice joins with the river of wind
Joining the terrible, tremendous symphony
Skyward, to the clouds, finally breaking free
Shackles, chains, and restraints put there on his own
A weight, a burden, unneeded, is finally thrown
Soon the storm, task finished, lifts it's cloak
The shadow moving, dissipating like smoke
Light filters down, revealing the ravaged ground
On a hill, in the mess, a still figure is to be found
Released from mortal bonds, he begins to rise
Rejoicing in his newfound freedom, only to realize
Under him lies his body, the vessel of his hurt
His body lies empty, unfeeling, facedown in the dirt
Knowing that this is wrong, yet not sure why
He kneels before his body to cry
Not a tear is shed though, for now the numbness has set
To feel, it is of only mortal nature, the shades forget
What they once were, what they had been, is gone
They're voices, they sing, but of a lonely song
Joining the chorus of the storm
Always cold, wet, never warm
YOU ARE READING
Compilation of Poetry
PoetrySome times I just gotta get stuff off my chest. Cry for attention? Probably not. Just want to see if others appreciate my poetry. See what others think. Hey, maybe my emotional side can entertain. :)
