Poem – “A Funeral for Pain” – Modern Romanticism – 2/15/2022

walking sticks – water pipes.
The filth, carried, the rotting man;
who walks?
Who, above the underground lake
has their pain taken
beyond the cremated shores?

Emotion stirs.
An ocean has been blurred.
No one knows the depth
he holds in a heart.
A bottle tossed with one written note –

of written words,
“Where did you go,
when it started to snow?”

A retrace, one feeble embrace.
A fly for an open mouth,
bacteria for a sore.

Fallen grace, whimpering woman
he still hears.

What a love,
what love –

kept his eyes dry?

He kneels in the sand
where debris from water pipes,
wheelbarrows for debris
are not specified
which trace is her.

Walking stick – cremation,
mere tinder burning atop a bonfire
where lays his heart.

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