The Soul

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The soul is what is seeking us through death.

When death is far away, it searches for

Your soul in snapshots of the ones whose breath

Is snuffed.  The soul is what flees out for more

Than it will need.  It flees because of weight

Of living, weight too much to bear, its pain

Of trap and crush.  It comes with cancer’s freight

Built in, like osmium upon the brain.

The soul is something fleeing that does not

Desire returning to a weighted heart.

The soul is like the thinnest dream that’s fraught

With death’s own night which never has a chart.

  The soul has never had the nightmare wings

    Of crushed white diamonds.  That is why it sings.

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