who wears such shoes,that every step trodden
creeks the tile
which sullies the bare cement?
when did my out-step
begin to weigh so heavily?
I was as silent as ether once,
a bare shadow,
though the burden upon my soul
seemed heavier then,
it reached dark tendrils
to touch those wailing souls nearby—
brethren of long and long ago acquaintance
who had tuned their inner stations to mine,
such melodies our fettered souls would sing,
harmonies grander than Handel's hymn,
more tranquil than Chopin's march.
I tell you!
angels lent us audience in those days,
only to abandon us
when our rap sheet of sons and sins
began to run too long,
and woe, redemption is a tune
whose major key we've yet to master.
Image: Mourning Angel
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