Embolus
Jagged, the broken piece of soul
Tumbles loose in my blood,
Floating unseen, like me
Beneath the great chain of being,
Quiet, just below the soil.
Thrombus
I accidentally saw the moon again
And last night
The broken piece of soul was pestilent,
A stabbing hope
Like beauty, a distant dream that mocks my waking tears—
Then wordlessly I am cautioned:
Don’t read, don’t listen, don’t sing, don’t speak.
There was a time once
When I had hoped
To sing or speak,
When the sky was crystal and kissed the blue mountains
Ever visible
But then, back then, there was hope, a whole soul.
Resolved
Heavy-lidded now,
My eyes are closed autonomically to shut out the sorrow
And I am unburdened by hope.
The solace of emptiness covers the broken
Piece of soul
And I slip down into the quiet pool that abides,
The deepening darkness of all our deaths.