Incantations Against Oblivion: A Lonely Tree on the Mountain

Like language, you are leaving me, poem,

to my own, lonely devices.

I am the solitary, leafless elm

and you are the rocky hill

upon which this edifice is built.


the cold, white sun between

the black bayonets of trees

so distant are you

and so watchful.

You outshine, and when you sink

below the hilltop

our dark hearts break.

We are all broken boughs

and songless sparrows.

I cry for you in the long dark night

swallowing all our souls.

Our feet wander to and fro over all the pebbled streams

and bouldered hills.

We shoulder our way through the pressing darkness

all the while, praying for dawn.

~ by ImaginaryCanary on December 18, 2014.

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