The Deserters

A thousand branches burning,
Across this desert, parched and slow,
Like an old autumn asleep,
Upon levanter’s brow,
I walk this breaking desert,
Sand frozen back in time,
My every breath is an answer,
To a query, long buried,
Here under these dunes,
These shadow mountains tall,
Waves of dust, awaiting,
The eternal rise and fall.

The sun,
It hums and hide,
I feel it’s laughter in my throat
“There be an ocean around you”, He says, “But not a drifting boat”
I walk, I wait,
I am dead perhaps,
I wait, I walk,
And rest upon ruined monuments,
Who afore me did die trying,
The tears I shed are silent,
All prayers I quote are sigh,
There are thousand people calling,
And every voice is a lie.

Oh there is,
And there too,
Shinning water in the deep,
Where the said souls gather,
Each night to quietly weep.

I felt a hand on my heart,
Of a spectre that slowly said,
“Have a sip of our nectar,
And tread farther the way ahead,
So that when you fall,
When you can no longer strive,
You too like us can await,
And aid another to pass alive.”

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Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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