Posted by: Ron DuBour | July 29, 2016

Synonym~by Norman Wilson




We are dust in a whispering wind
Drawn into a time with no end
From blood that once coursed strongly through our veins
Now never to bleed or breathe again

Crashing splashing here after then before
Lost memories in waves that dare to roar
Skirting tailwinds railed just off shore
With numbing consequences hungering for more

The soreness of death reels in rawness
As the whispering winds now holds are flesh
For we are the dust that gusts from the storm
By the raw rubbing on our bare bones

Who speaks for those in empty graves near the sea
Counting casualties in the storm of the synonym
With malevolent words for us in dust whispering
Upon the winds bringing the tides every spring

Are we remembered on that sandy beach
Or are we a forgotten memory just out of reach
As others bask on the shore for holidays
While we are claimed in dust blowing on the wind their way

All rights reserved 07/22/16
Norman Francis

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