Wrapping Up

something tells me I have to leave this place unremembered the wind smells foul the grass has changed color the shrine is now a Clubhouse and the Diviner has lost his memory where do you find blessing when everything stands still where do you find blessing when the trees are dead and beneath them are decaying bones of passersby whom do you call when the gas stove in the Tower is leaking and the Door of the Refrigerator stained with rust to whom do you turn when the air you breathe belongs to Someone what do you do when it is raining and the roof has curved in on you what will you say when the brick Wall has lost its battle with the Rain where do you go when the stairwell to the King’s chamber slops to a dagger-point and tongues groan and sing in glutton voices with whom will you stand when the mugs on the table are ugly and maggots dance round it in steps to dark unfathomed caves where do you find blessing when there is laughter inside the kitchen yet you hear no footsteps something tells me I have to leave this place unremembered and tell it all to my pillow my only friend (Xenia, 08/22/2011)