the music box
has a secret
it will whisper
it to you
in its tune
somewhere in this room
was the beginning of a grave
a small shallow home
in the earth
a place of rest
for a small child
the music box
spends its days alone
no one to play with
no one to abuse it
a jury of her peers
said she alone
was guilty
but the betrayals
of a teenage mother
no money
no lover
no family
no time
no sleep
she
a l o n e
This poem represents my third response to the third challenge series between Jade and I. This challenge is somewhat different in that the prompt is now an audio prompt. Each poet provides the other with five instrumental songs (so that the song’s words do not interefere with the poet’s) from which the poet is to write a poem. Jade has written her first response which can be found here.
what if i don’t wake from this here sleep
then will i be in heaven’s keep
or locked upon the plains of hell
or just no place at all
without recall
neither here
nor there
just dead
and gone
so should i go to sleep at all
maybe i should wait
until i fall
or nod off slowly
with resentment
knowing
there will be no
tomorrow
for surely
one day this must be
that prayers like these
must be true
if i should die before i wake…
what instrument shall I play for you
shall it be a magic flute
with melodic tones
that drift you into an even deeper sleep
where you can claim
this to be the best of all possible worlds or shall i play a song
that stirs your soul
a march
perhaps
that will let you see
the world around you
where slavery still exists
and hate burns deep
into the souls of men
like the searing heat
of a branding iron
or shall i play
a clever little melody
with notes to let you see
a child’s badly bruised face from a loving parent
or the makeup covered scars
of your neighbor’s adorable wife or perhaps you would prefer
some blues
to help you see
the deep stench of misery
of a ragged homeless person
or a flag caressing a parent’s coffin while small hands are left behind
whatever you choose
please tell me the key
so as to unlock
the heart within you
the sand of the sahara
fears no man
nor pay homage
to graven images
on walls of up-scale malls
nor will it listen to your
whimper of
but what can i do
for it is the undefeated army
that marches on your cities
and villages
salting not only the earth of carthage
but every parcel of land in its wake
and it shall not stop
until you wake from your sleep
and see that one man is never alone
there is always another
standing in the shadow of fear
hidden from your view
within the ancient ruins
of political rhetoric
but you
you
do not hear
the timeless voices of the desert spirits
imploring you to listen
to see the vision of the future
when all that you will know
will be sand
sand
holding the ashes
of every conqueror of this land
and every dreamer
who chose
not
to
act
here lies
the king
shot
fallen hero
his bones
carved into spears
and thrown
into his sons’ eyes
and his cross
melted down
and used
to ordain his followers
while young warriors
dress in his cloths
repeat his chants
but sleep
with his enemies
while those
who slept with the king
know
that the king
is
dead
the fog
like the shroud of turin wrapped around the lakeshore
an omen for those searching
for an unmarked grave
a grave dug with satan’s own hands
one as shallow as the soul
that forced her into the earth
moving as he did before
stalking a young child
fearing not the catach-and-release justice system
or megan’s law or god’s law
for he had seen the religious leaders
who moved from church to church
just as he had moved from town to town
and now in another jail cell
he will watch the same series of events
just like his last prey and so he yawns
and says
not another
candlelight service
and songs like darling i wish you were here and lawyers creating jury doubt
and then backroom deals
so he goes to sleep
but i
i summon nemesis to whom vengeance belongs
o goddess
to whom vengeance belongs
show yourself
come forth and as god
cast out his angel
i ask that you
revenge your sister
and place
this
on the right hand of lucifer
where
it
belongs
Read Between the Minds 