The Hunger of the Over-eager Musician Part IV: The Last Song You Played

To understand the direction of this poem you must have read all of my previous 'Hunger' poems and my poem called "Roots".

So quiet my roots can be

but only when I try to silence my mind

and the voices

singing, rejoicing, of the hungery musician's

forged talent

 

My roots creak

as they grow and expand through damp soil

the older I grow, the longer,

the louder the growth of the roots

the roots ventured off

towards other cherry trees and their roots

 

But one small branch of roots

travelled into the unspoken of orchards

the tips of the roots

grasped onto something decomposing

 

The roots felt out

strong arms,

experienced hands,

around a neck,

my roots found a cross necklass

on a forehead, 

my roots found horns

and from the mouth,

my roots heard

the faint, weakened cry

of the deadened song of the 

hungry musician.  

Reviews

[lori c]

i am amazed at this series of writes. your journey is tender, painful, and yet in some wavering distance, there is optimism. these have to have been difficult emotionally to compose and i pat you on the back for it. the small branch of roots reaching in an undefined direction is brilliant. thank you for your vulnerability and bravery in sharing these.