especially in unremarked graves,
never rest easy.
They claw
out of their tombs,
polite skin peeled away
making you confront the rot.
They rise
bringing the deterioration
of the past to the present
and they rest
only after they have truly been fed.
Photo by Simon Wijers on Unsplash
Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings post.
Very perceptive and evocative, Rommy!
ReplyDeleteThanks Debra!
DeleteWisdom and truth conveyed in a truly wonderful, apt metaphor!
ReplyDeleteLOL, well if I get a chance I'm always going to use a wild metaphor.
DeleteThis I can relate to... very well! That rage wants to burn... time tempers it but it's there..waiting! Sigh.
ReplyDeleteYep, even if you think it isn't there's always a live ember waiting to start a fire.
Delete"They claw out of their tombs," like the zombies, still at their old rotten stuff. Nasty is hard to fix, my dad did sort of, to the family and wife, but not to me.
ReplyDelete..
Sorry to hear that, Jim. :(
DeleteI cannot recall experiencing this kind of rage .. then again does it mean I am not fully aware of the world around me? Your provocative poem has made me ponder.
ReplyDeleteConsider yourself blessed then! It's not something I'd wish on anyone.
DeleteWhat we bury takes root... the good and bad of it!
ReplyDeleteIndeed
DeleteIf someone manages to still enrage you after they are dead, then they win.Airbrush them out of existence...you win .
ReplyDeleteThat's definitely one way to look at it
DeleteThought-provoking and well written, Rommy!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
Delete