It is He

It is He

A Poem by Namaa Hammond

From the dawn of the lands he crawled 'neath the sands

The strings once stems now stand at my hands

His wooden core that hath depicted black

All grew into my veins so I gave back


I play melodies that give me ability

To tune his voice to a song of choice

To hear him sing as I pluck each string

And lay a strum to see what becomes


Lamenting guitar speak for my scars

Drift me slowly but not too far

Clean my wounds and end with a tune

The date was at the end of June


Felt by the cries and not seen by the eyes

He reigns and shines that music is blind

A sound will cease as the chords appease

A story that brought me to my knees


A remedy and gift after a long, hard shift

His neck sits behind my wrist

His notes adrift, compelling a riff

Feeding me tricks hard to resist


When I stand alone my thoughts become a song

These songs are louder than what succumbs

He speaks loud as I ignore the crowd

It is he when I think aloud


© 2013 Namaa Hammond


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Added on November 18, 2013
Last Updated on November 18, 2013