REQUIEM

How can the light goes in
if there isn't even a crack?
How can you let anything in
when the walls are completely blocked off?

All the words are being kept
in a small cramped dark space inside of you;
a bluebird that you kept hidden
a bluebird that you teach to keep quiet.

Yet the voices under all the silences
dares you not to feel, only think.
But time, like some things,
aren't ours to hold: (there is something familiar about this.)

Some things felt good, but never felt right—
it doesn't elevate the soul.
To let go, could be the right thing.
But to fight and to try again, is courageous.

Because words are powerful forces of nature
but silence, too, speaks volume.
Some things can live silently, slowly crumbling
but reborn, at the sight of

a resonance smile; on the sight of a crack.
Because that is how the light gets in.
Do it fiercely before you break slowly, and
ever so gently


—C.L.