Feathers Through Broken Glass


I write myself through rooms
of musty memories, dust fog,
and lonely breathing through
a hand’s reach of five lungs.

Elbow to elbow we fed
on silence until leaving
was the only thing
we could digest.

The house was too small for the pain,
too angry for laughter, too weighted
with unspoken.

I don’t know how we grew wings,
but each one of us pulled feathers
through broken glass until the sky freed us.

Joy whispered where sorrow wept.
We were a house of twisted oak,
but love was never a sparrow’s nest
built from hollow words.

©Susie Clevenger 2017




Comments

Gillena Cox said…
Luv your second stanza the best. Wall cannot tie down the free spirit.

Thanks for participating Susie

Much love...
Angie said…
Oh Susie. Your words are cutting and light simultaneously. So expert.
brudberg said…
Fantastic write... the house is a nest we all need to leave sometimes. Silence is the worst thing to fill a home with.
Jazzbumpa said…
Well, I'll admit that when I got divorced
Lo these many years past
I felt like i had been let out of jail
And somehow the sky freed me

namaste
JzB