The Sound of an Everlasting

   the last drag of hope falls
          with the ashes of my cigarette
the medicine man and dark magic can't save me now.
     my thoughts run rampant
at the cost of every dream
          now i am as thin as this smoke
though burdened with my faults.
     but another hit or two
before i end this night
             to make sure the cancer catches
and i can call this quits
    & spend my days up amidst
midnight stars
             to watch over the sinners
and hum an old song
       with the smell of a pipe
and the sound of an everlasting.

Reviews

[charlie]

This makes me think of the Tewa people... A disenfranchised youth, perhaps, glaring misty eyed at a sinkhole of cultural oblivion. Can not go along with the efforts of her forbearers and the fusion of meaning between their own spiritual heritage and that of the Spanish oppressors... It's 2016 and I will die to get back to my roots. Adelin Yen Mah comes to mind, infact (not a Tewa, at all...). She wrote that book; "Falling Leaves Return To Their Roots"

[Circe]

Some beautifully conjured imagery in this poem, I like it a lot.