Creative Poetry: Amy Ward Oct 17

Earth, bruised

by Amy Ward

 

Mother, I cannot hear you

Mother do you speak, in whispers or cries?

I am short-sighted by my own survival

You drip, I drip

I bleed, you ache

I write in the shadows

Organic, mystic, open to light?

The paper birds fly, it makes me cry

The net shifts, we wait for time to

Show its face

He told me to grieve

To see the tears in the all

Understand—

You are not the only one
Learning, I am not the only one

We are the Only, the One

We wander through dark

Together

Because the lights were turned off.

We turn lights off

To energize

Ignorance, bliss.

This is it

I see it

I feel it

I am it, not alone

I create part

I am of the whole

The art speaks to me

Words find their mark

Is this a bandwagon I’ve joined? 
The words keep coming,

It goes to no end

We think deeply by condition, inspired and alive
I feel moved, by the wagon

And I feel better, morally

Thinking it’s worth my time

It’s got to be worth my time

Amy Ward
Amy Ward is a contributor to the Argosy.