A Creative Stance on Cognitive Dissonance

Poetry, Prose, & Words

Someone should have told Charlotte Mew that the trees are up, standing tall, they have not fallen down; it is only their boughs bowed heavily to the ground in mourning for the silence of the sparrows that fly no more.  Sappho weeps by an empty chariot as Cytherea returns to the sea forever more. John Skelton knows why Jane Scrope laments so deeply for a dead sparrow while Shakespeare’s Hamlet discovered a special providence in the fall of such a tiny bird.
The sparrows are silenced, bled dry of their song. Sweet melodic tongues ripped out-right from their righteous beaks. A haunting silence now echoes deeply into the heart of Bede’s Hall, while Catullos’ elegy falls on deaf ears, going mostly unheard.
I can feel their little bodies grow cold and stiff as they plummet downward in final flight, their wings bound tight.  I can hear the sound of their light-weight feathered masses reverberating loudly off the dry clay earth ground by a certain river’s edge. It sounds like that of a thousand elephants trampling over the last ounce of truth and love...and quiet...such quiet... all I hear is loud silence… and wonder where are His eyes now? In which direction does the last lone sparrow fly ?

I quit beautiful heart, I quit....

These are my words written loudly with a hope they might be read and I understood-

*Mature Content* be advised. Please feel free to leave comments and tasteful helpful criticism!