To the fluttering harp string gates
that protect the windows to my soul,
I offer my deepest condolences.
For you have felt the loss of every
Tear, far more than I, the lone
rain cloud in heaven.
I’ve asked a violin to wait outside
In the grassy fields of morning
and catch dew upon her strings.
But I forgot how she could
have made music
This poem was originally published on Unstamatic, an online flash prose/poetry literary journal. This was part of a experimental "Universal acceptance" call, where the journal accepted and published all submissions (with the exception of hate speech). The goal of this project was to create a snapshot of what the writing of today looks like, without the filter of "acceptance."
Gatekeepers of the Soul is part of an unpublished collection of odes about the human body, which I wrote in an effort to find beauty in the mundane functions that keep us alive.