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| Photo by Scott Wyden |
I remember now.
Her voice
Feminine
Frail
Echoed weakly
Floated like a loose feather
On crisp currents
Of steep concrete canyon walls.
Her song
Pathetic
Pale
Floundered
Skipping like a scratched record
Between a sliver of blue
Of steep concrete canyon walls.
Her words
Pained pleadings
Wailed
Fluttered faintly
Flying like a blind falcon
Through swirling winds
Of steep concrete canyon walls.
The leap
Ill-minded
Ire
Flailing
Falling like lone confetti
Amid silent parades
Of steep concrete canyon walls.
The echo
A haunting
Choir
Lingered lastly
“Doesn’t anybody care?”
Staining red the street
Of steep concrete canyon walls.
I hear her now.
Though
Just an echo.
Her death
Fortissimo
Thundering kettle drums
Accented
With
Crashing cymbals
Vibrating
To silence.
The symphony
Singes
My soul.
In the cavernous
Steep
Concrete canyon walls
I ignored
An echo.
"Doesn’t…
Anybody…
Care?…"
God forgive me.
I hear her now.
8 comments:
:)
Regret has an interesting flavor!
I'm smiling just from seeing your moss tree image, how I can forget it each time I visit, I do not know. But YAY, that I get to forget and see it anew each time!
Echoes throughout the piece are brilliant.
Wow! This is a very powerful interpretation of this picture, and the poem itself descended the page like a fatal fall from a high place. So creatively done.
yes - she has her own songs - and you play them well henry..love your take on the prompt
remembering her fall and comparing it to a song. very creative. great imagery too.
chilling...does anyone hear...does anyone care...through your words perhaps...
Oh, this is amazing, Henry. Your words conjured up so many images for me. There is such an objectification of life and death in big cities. So sad.
symphony singes my soul... I've heard this symphony before ... so painful. You put me right there again... a perfect retelling of such pain...
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