Monday 28 April 2014

Breaking Dawn


The bloodshot sun has risen again
Cleansing herself in the salted dew of dawn
The stench of dusk’s funeral pyre lingers
In burning eyes
In charred skin
In smoked up ideals
And ashes

Lips that no longer part, twitch
Eyes that no longer open, squint
Fingers that no longer meet, tremble
And we try to sleep

For even slumber comes uneasy
To those who wish to die
Even dreams come in fragments
To those who seek vision
Roads fall to pieces
For those who wish to run

And so must we borrow feathers
And string together a new tomorrow
Seasoned with the raw meat of hunger
Bathed and dressed in salivations of a new destiny

And so we rise
On remaining limbs and senses
Swear on the dregs of our tears
And wake to a new day
A new dawn
A new sunrise
Crawling, falling, clutching at straws
Lifting ourselves on broken feet.