He.
He can't bear the weight of the masses.
Yet...
He tries.
He.
Despite himself
and the oft
misguided voice
which speaks in
voluminous silence..
I hear him.
in darkness..
reach for him
and the anguish he conceals
in his capaciously clandestine grin..
He desperately tries.
Yet I know.
And.
I love him for it.
He.
With giant strides,
and baby steps
head held high,
conceals secrets and pain.
He holds them tightly
against his bulging chest..
Arms gunning truths
that persistently invade
his thoughts,
his heart.
elusive.
Words held tightly
in the rise of his cheeks
seek refuge in gums.
Dare not speak it,
lest we live it.
Yet he smiles.
Or at least he tries.
He, attentive to
every thing and one
outside himself..
He a facade.
A simple delusion.
and I love him.
His valor,
fading.
His strength,
weakening.
His heart, rhythmically seeking it's beat.
The one he remembers in dreams.
The beat that cries along side him..
Before it all..
Before smiles were heavy.
Words consuming.
He speaks.
Or at least he tries.
He tries to speak over the screams
raging inside him...
I hear them
in the quiet of dawn
and pray
that he finds
peace...
kdtaylor, 2009
section 8 coffee publications
all rights reserved..
E. Zora Knight
2009-04-23
Langston..... a work in progress
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1 comment:
sigh...yep...yep
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