sept. it’s the 8th now

In one moment, too stoned. three voices could be heard

the father, who bears the mother’s lode, he speaks undercover-like, low

    and quivers in fear’s shadow

the son, making sounds through his thin-skin’s bubbling boils of angst, 

  piercing  howls of hunger’s yearning

the holy ghost, whispering hither-to’s and promising fate’s reward of    immortality and beauty

stoned and hearing one voice now

one voice that knows you best but sounds more like drowning in asphyxiated  
air, lack of presence

where the last thing you see is the child that dreamed of happily-ever-afters

and finds it is illusion

that has kept you going to reach this point of no return

to meet the child born of your belly

and left him to celebrate the moment of his birth

for the rest of his life

on the day you died

-dld, o9.o8.1o

——————-

writing challenge for T10 – Words, Inc., Wednesday: (1) moment, (2) stone, and (3) voices

Advertisements

3 responses to “sept. it’s the 8th now

  1. The imagery seem dark and sad in this poem….liked the religious references.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s