Beggars Can'T
I am faceless
Tattered by actuality
Heart thrumming in my ears
Blind to prospects
Voiceless ... soundless
Yet I scream, mute
Face to the sky, I wail like a fiend
Hailing the heavens like a forsaken angel
Above, the sucking expanse
A mocking roar of silence that drips, somber
And bleaches my bones black ... indelible.
Of those most dear, I brood
Ever-near, in my visceralities
The joy and regard that but their mention imbues
Sings through my blood like a brand
And buoys my spirit, steadfast.
They ARE my heart, after all
My essence ... my worth
Is this longing, then, but folly?
Should it NOT be the spur of my marrow
To hope for a shard's requital ... in love?
In tender, affectionate intent?
Or even in, dare say, (desperate) ... pity?
Even that, I'd surely embrace ...
Oh, yes ... even that.
* SECOND PLACE in the "Any Poem Won In A Contest In November" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor. *
* FIRST PLACE in the "Contest Number 355" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor. **
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