Sta.sh
If I were writing from the other side,
I would say
This road was not on my map.
No one goes there
on purpose.
And then tell you how
I escaped.
I asked for help, for change,
and grief was the answer:
Grief as old and hollow as snowfall,
grief as heavy
as snowfall,
grief that said, "You,
You are the spent ember,
You are the last angry voice
and when you pass
the dark
will have been waiting."
The grief was right. I burn,
I burn cold and heavy,
crouching in the ashes of greatness,
I burn,
and the fuel is low.
The dark is waiting.
But what angel comes
with words of despair? Even Job
had no angels to tell him, "Alas."
This road is not on my map.
No one comes here
on purpose.
Even the locals don't know
where I am.
My signal fire is tired.
Bleary-eyed, reading coals
in case I wrote an answer,
in case no one comes.
I would like to be writing
from the other side. To be saying,
What a funny place I have been. Let me tell you.
Now the map burns.
I will keep the dark
waiting.
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You are the spent ember,
You are the last angry voice
and when you pass
the dark
will have been waiting."
I was looking though my favorites folders for potential pieces to read for
Let me know what you think?
Resolution by ~completeaccident
and let me know if I need to change anything or if you approve it as is before I sent it along to *disrhythmic to post on the wordpress blog, that would be awesome!
Am I okay to send a link along to *disrhythmic, then?
Resolution by ~completeaccident
If you could put a link to the reading in your artists' comments and let me know, I'll send this on to the group gallery!
Thank you so much for letting me read this!