“The hawk with talent hides its talons” unknown
A Swell in the Throat
In the kindness of the word,
the tenderness of the voice,
kind is harder to swallow
than the harshness of hurt.
I know the tone, I know the
tremble which calls from
a place unknown, a voice burrowed
deep in the well of my soul.
The curse is a swell in the throat,
a heart locked into a pulsing silence,
a dream that seems surreal,and
a flower lost to the spring equinox.
I am connected to the recollection when
distance is thick like midnight water,
hope lost to the storm of hurt, and
the calloused words of forgiveness repeat.
My past is mixed with the other side,
blending a visceral memory living in me.
And as I look out the freshly cleaned window,
I see someone that reminds me of me.