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Saint Sakura

published: 10-25-2019

 

the ides of autumn blow fierce yet again
and I sit here, wondering if this is a sin
to be here all alone, sitting under the sun
mind wandering free, beholden to no one

two years hence, before bitter storms came
I stood, looked out through my window and watched the wind play
through the branches up above, listened to neighbors and birds chatter
and when little kids screamed, wondered whatever was the matter

rolling emerald hills where once we both played
but now, in this life, only I returned to the plains
only I remained

now, when I rest my head in my arms at the windowsill
Eponine's passion gone, Erin's resignation lingering still
my heart beats like a drum at the end of a song
fading gently into the night
wondering if maybe, all along, they were right

would they carve out my limbs like the stump on the tree
and then have the audacity to still ask me
if I yearned to be free?

the rotting corpse of a bird cloaked in midnight
an ornament in a fitting golden cage of delight
deprived of life's blood of work, without amenities tight
to force a young soul to find meaning in plight