The Witness of Words
There are times she just sits thererubbing a tired hand across her eyes,
other times, head bent her tongue
protruding from the corner she
writes diligently, the scratching pen
alive and like a magicians wand
streaks of black bleed into paper.
The room is lit only by a lamp
where shadows observe silently,
they stand sentry by the drapes and
in the deepest recesses of the room.
They watch the dust motes swirl
like tiny flickering stars around her
as with tired shrug of her shoulders
her head will lift slowly to gaze
at vistas no one else will ever see.
Hands worn numb as cramped
fingers long to feel warmth,
she'll wring, oozing life into them
the white pressure marks cut deep.
A bottle with its lid open is
a dark and foreboding sea with its
tidal marks left to drift aimless.
It smells like blood in the air
a metallic scent as its contents spill.
This is the essence and the pen
is a tool that writes in all its pain,
perhaps she is no soldier of action,
only a quiet witness of words
that bring no cathartic release.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2008-02-20 at 12:23
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Kathy Lockhart |
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