Waiting On The Dying

Reprinted from Pink Latte Publishing







There was a primal scream so loud is shattered the chandelier overhead.

Fists pummeled the stiff body lying in repose on the velvet cushions inside the polished mahogany.

Utterances of anguish emerged from many decades of compliant silence.

Unanswered prayers now to be buried in the heavy chamber of clay.

Fury burned the eyes were widows tears should rest.

Strong limbs enveloped heaving frame pulling back to life.

Wells of bottled tears erupted like a levy broken flooding out unspent waters.

Screams of rebuke to the sewn lips and penny shut eyes for the years of fire from a controlling tongue.

Weeping and sobbing to heaving and breathing the clay to burn fury in hulking frame no more.

Gentle touches and breezes to douse the pent up searing of the soul to be released for a tomorrow yet to be.

Too much living lost waiting on the dying to end the chain that binds.