Friday, April 22, 2005

The Lullaby of the Childless

A barren field
is a song yet
to be sung.

So claims
the sower
of seeds

On her
wide sea
of soil,

Cradle
not yet
to fruit,

Unfaithful
to the summons
of seasons.

His thunder
stealing
her melody,

Her maladies
drowning
in his dreams

Of children
playing like
fire-tongues

That spark
on the horns
of the beast

Rushing
through waves
of sugarcane,

Changing
against nature's
conspiracies.

As his lighting
strikes
its last note,

Her voice
cracks in chorus
with the cry

Of a million seeds
washed away
by a single tear.

- jay malaga
(INTRUDER ALERT! [blink] INTRUDER ALERT! [blink] ALL SECURITY SYSTEMS ENGAGE!)

Posted by inktrip at 4:19 PM

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