Suture the Sundered
Walking far and fatigued, his arms
Swing beneath the autumn trees, broken and disarmed.
Leaves break and fly away, in the breeze embrace
They pass from day to day; his tongue embalmed of a bitter taste.
He sees a mile so far away, yet watches through opaque eyes.
Dismissed, his thought flies as a curse inside the rest;
Those that seek the virtues of ending all remiss.
The bloody war rages inside his head; the fires
And troops stretch out for lines, and volley to the death.
The ground they stand upon grows brown, with every single day;
The fertile dehydrates alive, with every cry in vain.
Stumbling sleepily through gardens lit, his thoughts
Collide with mind unfit. Halves in two with wilting split,
The uprooted tree from Earth’s fragile grip.
And so it is now yet he knows it not, that distance between
The link. He asks us now about his daze, his mind with
Thoughts to drink. He asks about that learning parable,
The one that teaches constant use:
His slumbering walk with separable halves,
The link forever loose.
The poem 'Suture the Sundered' is just awesome. Enjoyed it a lot! Thanks for the share.
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