The Host
As much a tale wept, but never saw,
This is my burden swept.
Kindly words creep golden with time
To hollow the pain too deep.
To avert the eyes from shattered organs
Ignoring the problems size.
This is crystal flowing, that thaws
And tepid keeps when snowing,
But don’t cross shades with the falling ice
That lulls, sways and persuades,
This is the timing most unnerved
When violence prays on hosts.
Silence boasts beyond it’s words
To snap a forgotten bond
That wound its way through my tears
To tell me what I knew.
I sipped the medicine, unsure
What they’d given me or script,
And if I could see I am sure
I’d find it pointing to me.
And when I’m done I’ll pay the fee,
Refunded for pain or pun.
So when the ghost of happiness looms,
I’ll nod and thank the host.
The The Host by Katalyn Louis Parks, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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A thought-provoking poem, with many wonderful lines. A unique write, Katalyn Louis Park pitches a new voice in poetry that possesses possibilities for the art form.
Edwin M. Cordevilla