Mercy, a Forgotten Language
The Morgue File
the sinking of things feels old to me
weight upon water
a tendency toward disappearance.
if i could
i would advocate
so that lost feelings could reattach somewhere
on recognisable terrain
but my mouth is clamped
and my soul silent
its language forgotten.
eyes open to the shimmer overhead
the light can be blinding
to those who see
Very rough piece today--At Poet's United we are writing about mercy. I am not even sure if this is the beginning of one poem or several--but this is what came out of me as I thought about mercy today.
Copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015