The Birds Above, They Call to Me

I sit on the earthy edge, my feet swinging

Like the youthful girl I’ve always been -

I sit in quiet prayer, my soul the violin,

The inner words the trumpet, the tears clinging,

Stinging my nose, my cheeks, lips and chin…

 

The earth, oh how it does quake, shake, and rumble!

Sentimental sediment I see,

So rich, so dark - oh I wish it me, not thee!

The stars have aligned, the dirt cast, crumbled -

So this - this - then, is how it will be?

 

Shaken, angry, I’m sad - lost in disbelief.

It’s over now, your body’s in it’s box,

Your spirit free, your soul lost on deadly rocks.

Caught in a downward spiral, raging in grief -

The trees…the river…the earth, they mock!

 

The birds above, they call to me…come, come, love

Urging away from the open grave,

The caretaker‘s shovel the long-waiting slave -

I stand, tossing in the last rose and right glove.

Crying again - why can’t I be brave?

 

I stand on the earthy edge, your words ringing

Loud, clear, true - we are as we’ve always been -

I stand in quiet prayer, my soul the violin,

The inner words the trumpet, the tears clinging,

Stinging my nose, my cheeks, lips and chin…

 

Dena L Moore

July 24, 2008

Reviews

[Casanova]

I miss your writing and your friendship