echoes of gray clouds
from thunder that left your mouth
reverb off the canyon
a lonely and mournful sound
rain drips like waterfalls
from the corners of my blue sky
-
It took forever to get here
in cloth covered wagons
crossing rivers and desserts
leaving all that I ever had
and I've lost track of the number of storms
that I've merely survived
by clinging to the story
of a promised land
where the living thrive
-
How many mountains are ahead
I don't rightly know.
The natives are restless
Through their land I tip toe
Not wanting to be seen
but at least for my name to be heard
Making friends with wild horses
and following the path of blue birds
-
Maybe somewhere out there
someone will place a feather
in the red curls of my hair
and shield me from the weather
he'll light fires
from the sparks of his leathered hands
that are envermeiled
-
He'll let me take the reigns
and he'll tell me I'm lightning
He'll love me fiercely
despite thinking me frightening
It takes a strong steady man
to revere things of earth that are wild
-
At the end of the day
he'll hum songs that will drown out the gray
and as I drift off to dreams
he will tell all the stars of my name.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.