Fast Poem: #19 A Splash of Selfish Sorrow

The silence belongs to me,
not requested,
not demanded,
the silence belongs to me.

If I wanted to share I would.
If it meant things could change
and I wanted to share I would.
If it mattered,
meant things could change
and I wanted to share,
I would.

It is between God and me now.
God shows no remorse.
I’ve run out of patience.
Gifts grow old,
wear out or break,
tragedy swirls emptiness around naked trees
cold drifts from curb to curb,
keening cosmic winds whine
through the eaves,
kiss a heart broken soul,
and are gone …

Meteoric joy skips off time thin atmosphere.
Life, evanescent, love illuminated;
seasons harmonize howling pain, guilty laughter;
memory retains ecstasy, hilarity and wonder;
retrospect extends life beyond time.
Survivors,
we imbibe a libation of air,
each inhalation a sliver of luck.
God need not rue.
Patience has less virtue than I thought.

This is for me and God to sort.

If I wanted to share I would.

The silence belongs to me.

© 2009 Chromepoet

  • http://xanga.com/sharkey Sharkey!

    “a libation of air, each inhalation a sliver of luck.”

    You just made me spill my drink.

© 2008-2012 Chromia Poetics