Poetry: Stream of Consciousness

Posted: April 7, 2018 in Poetry, stream of consciousness

Barren

And it came to b
a lone woman on a desolate road,
feet bare a-trod graveled stones
that pierced her skin & core.

she did not mind cuts
she did not mind hunger
she did not mind echoes & silence
she did not mind an unknown destination

and there upon the road she viewed
a weeded wasteland where nothing grew,
save for a barren, blackened soil of weeds

Winds blew to & fro
& a storm arose, of such magnitude
that she sought shelter; she shivered
& viewed a partially hidden culvert

It was rusted with a dark & damp within
It was neglected & she knew-- 
It was alone, as she; both had a common connection

She did not mind tears & soft rain on cheek
She felt peace with it & looked upward
She viewed storm clouds with much power
She dragged her knapsack & crawled inside

And it came to b that her tears dried & she
hugged tighter to herself--she was at peace.
The storm grew stronger & the ground shook

She was unafraid--voices in her head silent.
She, in darkness, saw light
She, alone, felt peace.

And it came to b, the sun shone bright.
Wooded carts, pulled by oxen, passed the road.
One labor shouted to stop to relieve himself.
And in the weeds he glimpsed-- 

The culvert & something, he did not know.
The laborer parted dry grass & discerned a woman
The match, retrieved from pocket, illuminated throughout

He was afraid, yet touched the form
It was damp & cold without pulse
& he called to the wagon for assistance.

Other labors retrieved a lifeless form with a knapsack
In her fingers was clutched a cross on a chain
Tight to b pried away; one kind laborer
Placed it around her neck & smoothed black, rustled hair.

An abandoned church--the man pointed
"It is not far, we should carry her there
& pray for her soul. Our Father doth know her, while we know not. 
We bury her in the cemetery behind."

The laborer carried her in his arms & thought
of his sisters. Someone would bestow kindness
upon them, he prayed silently for their safety.

And it came to b, days passed & the laborer walked
the graveled road & stopped to place a flower
upon the unknown woman's grave--Astonished,
he removed his hat, with bent head in reverence.

Life had sprung forth; what once was barren flourished
Death,life, rain, perhaps tears bestowed flowers upon barrenness
All road sides & beyond encircling the weathered church.

And the laborer knelt at the unmarked grave.
And the man made the sign of the cross.
A wood marker, he would carve;
for she would not b alone.
wsharpApr2018











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