A Cargo of Green Hearts
~POEMS~
the thing with sorrow is
you must not stop reciting it not until the last word is gone not stop pouring until the dirt has ate the dew of the last salted drop not stop even if everyone you know has grown bored to death on its violins and all you have to speak to are dogs and birds who know little of it but will listen because of their ears attuned to the faintest note and the trees who are made to stand still absorb everything and in the end even they are not enough to take the last bit from you and you know you must manage the long old road to the sea which is made of it, what you bear and plunge yourself in the blue womb and be carried out like a burning canoe and be quenched and be made whole and then, sailor, turn away and only then.
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Poetry LogPoems are posted here when I'm ready to share them. I often don't title my poems. The date you see above the poem may be the date it was posted here and not necessarily the date it was created. To see more, click on the Archives below. Archives
January 2020
CategoriesUnless otherwise noted, all content ©Paul-William Gagnon, Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-NoDerivs license.
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