Distractions: A Book of Poetry

Poems that I've written


117. Messenger Bird

You live in a city underground
Where screams don't make a sound,
and voices are physical.
Words slap you across the face
They kick you in the gut
Knock you to your knees
Leave you gasping for more oxygen
The only way to survive 
in a city full of words and pain
is to take your voice
and weave soft fabrics into it
Stuff it full of sun-soaked clouds
and add a few burrs to make it stick
Wrap a rope around it, easy grip
for something to hold on to
Then sing out loud
Pull the letters, strung together;
Twinkling Christmas lights,
pull them from your throat
And toss them across the pavement
String them over windows
And wrap them around staple-ridden light poles
Then dump what's left into a bucket
and fill the spaces in with liquid gold
instead of boiling blood
And pour it all over your head
So you can shine bright and be seen
Then sing, messenger bird, sing
And show the city the light of hope.

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