UNGRAVED
The emptying was torture
Like a queen bee on the back porch
Easy to avoid, ignore
No need to go out those french doors
Another route to necessity
Eliminating the need of more
...then came the scrapping
You showed me the epidermis
Of my well
I was certain my water was sweet
Til I saw it
Shock shook the core of my soul
Then you went deeper
You broke the foundation
Of my cistern...broken pottery
Strewn on the open ground
The wide open ground
My eyes caught a shadow
A shape of doubt melded
With elements of matter
Grief, pressurized grief
Made a form
Walking under my well of HOPE
Breathing sorrow upon vision
Whispering...I'm aggrieved
...........does anyone care
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03-28-2024
Copyright © Trudy Schrader | Year Posted 2024
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