communication

Unspoken

A poem falls victim today
on the battleground of a swallowed tongue.
The remains of a severed word struggles to usher it’s final truth
before rolling to a stop among the cliffs
of a desolate and unforgiving land.
As others had fought here before,
emerging from tragic storms on the horizon,
they now had seemed to spring off the banks in vein,
searching for a meaning amongst the lemmings of such other beasts.
Their crimes were suited with their fate,
washed away upon the shores of a closed mind
and a broken ear,
never to collide
with the passing of a sailing vessel.
But these words today
were given no such chance
but instead lay gasping for air,
before finally slipping back into the darkened depths
from which they came.
Perhaps tomorrow the tale will be different
of a victory to sweep
and to be awash under wine and celebration
but until that day,
these soldiers shall stay in their quarters,
to pass their time,
before their final calling is spoken.

-Julien O’Reilly