DEAD SEA SCROLL

DEAD SEA SCROLL

My body, it lies in the open field,
Stripped down and broken away.

And all of my suffering is swallowed,
By the vultures and creatures of prey.

I have lived long enough to remember,
There are things one should never forget,

And my heart it is swallowed,
Until it hangs hollow,
Alone in the land of regret.

My feelings lie buried in silver linings,
That never quite came to pass,
All of my worries came down like a flurry,
Like a snowstorm in a dreadful hurry,

Feeling no pain and packing a punch,
Like a Santa Claus caught in a holiday crunch,

My feelings lie buried, all hurried and harried,
Like a Type A slaving, a mess at his desk,
Burning the oil past midnight, wasting his final breaths.

My love it died so quietly I scarce could hear it fall,
Like some renegade painting that fell from the wall,
Into the abyss and once more into the fray,
My love it came so silently, then faded straight away.

My love, it lies in the burial tomb,
In my father’s house of many rooms,
Where the cobwebs hang so dark and low,
I fear for the loss of my very soul.

A fine vintage wine that washed ashore,
Lost to me forevermore,
An old religiosity, a quiet curiosity,
A hollowed out mansion with gutted floors.

My life it died in the painful past,
Like a dead sea scroll kept under glass,
Fragile, lonely, a crumpled leaf on the wind,
A relic and a holdout,
From the land of let’s pretend.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED