Monday, May 16, 2016

NeverMore

NeverMore sings its Poe song
in the first light of mourning’s match.
I should cry, but my eyes are dry.

A broken, broad chest lies in satin oak.
Karma waited until the right wheels
could squash a reign of terror.

My heart aches for my grieving father,
but I am a daughter feeling relief
arms stilled by death can no longer reach.

Still stitched to the breath of a victim’s lung
I hear NeverMore speak,
“Freedom will guide you through the unraveling.”

©Susie Clevenger 2016


8 comments:

Outlawyer said...

Whoa, Susie--a very powerful poem with striking images--I think of the juggernaut at Puri and the coffin and agh--pain, relief, and the long road home or away from. Thanks k.

brudberg said...

What a potent and honest poem at the wake... it's hard to mourn in some cases... and maybe just a hope at break of dawn.

debi said...

That reign of terror and arms that are still... I think I can see why her eyes are tearless. There is a sadness here and yet relief handled so well with the words you've chosen. Maybe a ballad in the making?

Helen said...

This is overwhelming, Susie.

Magaly Guerrero said...

My heart just broke a little, Susie. Those arms, those tired arms... "stilled by death".

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I felt that relief that a reign of terror had ended at my father's funeral, Susie. Your writing is, as always, superb.

Hannah said...

Oh, yes...the facets of death you've captured so well...this is moving, Susie.

Bekkie Sanchez said...

Death never sounded so good Susie. Lovely!