Tuesday, 31 July 2012

Within the Walls Where I Once Drew Tiny Breaths

Within the walls where I once drew tiny breaths and saw life unfold

Where I first broke bread and filled my cup with dry pieces of crust

A sprinkle of sugar, a measured pour of canned milk, topped with boiling water

 There was little talk
Words, too, were rationed

Silence clung to his footsteps like a shadow

Stilling every tongue and quieting movements

... but just outside the door ...

(The one with plastic wrap tacked over its broken window)
There was grass and sky, woods and river

Places and spaces I ached for

I could not have described for you the nature of those longings
To do so would have required words beyond my ken

Words I never heard

Did their eyes see what I saw?
Did their ears hear what mine heard?
If they did ...
They never shared a whisper of it with me

Within the Walls where I once drew tiny breaths I was surrounded but alone

Perhaps they were too

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