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


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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.
May 16, 2016 at 12:35 PM
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.
May 16, 2016 at 1:46 PM
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?
May 16, 2016 at 3:54 PM
Helen said…
This is overwhelming, Susie.
May 16, 2016 at 6:35 PM
Magaly Guerrero said…
My heart just broke a little, Susie. Those arms, those tired arms... "stilled by death".
May 17, 2016 at 12:41 AM
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.
May 17, 2016 at 11:42 AM
Hannah said…
Oh, yes...the facets of death you've captured so well...this is moving, Susie.
May 17, 2016 at 1:31 PM
Bekkie Sanchez said…
Death never sounded so good Susie. Lovely!
May 18, 2016 at 12:31 PM
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