Somewhere
burried deep, dark entombed
wrapped with cords
in worry's womb
is a cry
in breach
with strangled breath
hands outstretched
in panic try.
Somehow,
lofted light, ignites
illuminates
scalple slits, layers splits
red sea parts
throws up, erupts
the cry surfs high on molten ash
on satan's trash
eagles soar on lions roar
the raven flies
nevermore,
freedom's cry
for evermore, for ever, more
the cry is freed, the cry is freed.
the cry is free.
Roar eyes, roar.
Read more articles by william price or search for articles on the same topic or others.
Wow! What impact this poem has on the spirit! I felt as if all the pent up anguish, strife and pain in a person's life had been released at long last. I was relieved at the end. Fantastic! You continue to amaze this writer.
You have such passion in this poem, SirWilliam. It sounds to me like the panic in trying to deliver a breech presentation, fearing that the baby will suffocate before the head follows the body in birth--and from the baby's perspective as well! But, I sense this is a metaphore for something much deeper. I would love to sit in the audience when you do readings of your work, and listen to your detailed explanation hidden under the words of this poem. You never fail to impress this reader!
