Let Them Go
He counts it up to six, begins the song.
Sleight hand adjusts the mix, we sing along.
His words! His words! He works the code
And piles them up beside the road —
Stoic harbingers, unforgotten past —
With words that echo the scars that hold fast.
The poet traces lines before my chair,
But blind, he never finds that I am there.
The ink! The ink! My loving page
Capturing words — the moonlit cage.
His fingers cut the iron bands that cling
The ink dances the silver of the string.
Now fading, we found peace within that dance –
The power of release – calm, casual rants.
Let go! Let go! Body and words
Take to the wind like migrant birds.
The autumn currents carry them back home.
Let go as seers make the gifts their own.
I wrote this on a prompt/challenge from dVerse Poets Pub. The form is called a Staccato. I generally have a hard time with form and rhyme — it always feels like I almost managed to say what I was trying to say.
But no matter…it’s good to try to get past our limits, yes?