WL Schuett

Twilight Song

a favorite child of the angels 

barefoot , pure . 

The morning dew in her hair 

she was loved in real time 

 

she wrapped herself in quiet 

she heard the murmurs of 

the past . 

Beset by doubt 

she carried the prayers 

of the ages 

black nights without hope 

 

hunting for the song hidden 

in the twilight 

she closed the Shutters 

over the windows of her 

heart 

 

those of us who breathe 

in liberty with our 

first breath 

don’t know what it is 

like to be enslaved 

 

she wasn’t even allowed 

the luxury of introspection. 

Cemetery hill was flooded . 

She was counting to zero 

down a road to nowhere 

with nothing in sight 

 

sunrise stretched the 

shadows like broken yesterdays 

trampling the morning, 

looking ;

to nurture her prayers or 

capture her heart .

 

Comments5

  • Alex Arnot

    a very surreal darkness! I also really like the title of this poem.

  • Louis Gibbs

    Devoid of life-force. Surrendered to the void. A quenched soul, is what this painting and poem express to me. Both so well done, WL!

  • myself and me

    The melancholy eyes are searching for hope, the closed mouth is trying to express depressed feelings. The "twilight song" is sad and far.

  • Goldfinch60

    Wonderful write WL, I was drawn right into this.

  • MaddieJ

    "She was counting to zero

    down a road to nowhere

    with nothing in sight " These lines are golden! Thanks for another excellent write friend!



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.