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Bare Thorns

Darius Greene on January 04, 2012 04:13

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    (I had this tune hidden away for some time, bringing it back out for a spell)


    Your black heart survived the fall,
    then moved like an unnatural thing.
    A bleak mist that slid and crawled,
    a shadow behind everything.

    When the window’s a door, taken by the memory,
    of creepers and vines; a scrambled moon, in the night like breath,
    naked, and growing roots down into the needle’s pines.

    Don’t just sit there and neigh, it’s a new day,
    in the rows, see the garden it grows?
    Don’t worry about the Sun in the gloom,
    it’s a knight for when light is doom.

    The floor is unswept, strewn with the memories of photographs and toys;
    in the greenish noon, the calm noise of a world without girls or boys

    Don’t fray it away, it’s a new day;
    in the rows, see the garden, it grows!
    Don’t worry about the hand of gloom,
    bare your thorns, for when might is doom.

    Don’t waste your breath.

    art: 'thorn bush' by Geraldine Pomeroy at


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