The Death of a Lark
I know I’m posting really old stuff. Written almost 4 years ago, this one is really special to me.
31.12.2009
Those feathers on the earth
Were once of her skin
They spoke of infinite zest
They told the tales that should have been.
But her feet seemed too frail
Unable to bear her weight
And that of all the miseries she bore
She struggled, even to see.
She could not fly yet
She knew – never would she!
Yet walk, she did
To reach that exhausted bough
Where she would sing with all her might
With all the love she held
In her heart of trembling sand
In her indestructible soul!
But it’s all the same in the dark
The noise of the sparkling dust
The folds in her fallen wings
The pain of the dying lark.
The Poet's Verb 