Poem – “Our Future to Cart the Other” – Romanticism – 1/17/2021

Hold down
Teardrops from statues

Of hearts left to the rain,
For dreams merged with the pain
Of times so soft in the hard hands
That toiled about in the soil
For the rocks that would stop
The train of sickness
To the other, so frail.

Your firm, recollected flesh
In the hands
That never twitch,
Blossoming for me

A beginning to see
Of roses, in a garden for the mind
To bathe in kempt waters.

I last for the mile,
Stinging my eyes to view
No sadness that lifts with the moonlight
That guides the tide
Between our divided purpose,
Of solace to one side,
Of wretchedness to the other.

Burn, as I do,
For the evening that sews
Flesh, together for the sentence
Discarded with the hope
For my
Burning rope
That tied together my hands.

I never saw the realm
Of greatest love,
Just the few departed moments
Fallen from above.

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