Writing

Letting Go

The fragrance of this room is familiar
It is the rotting embers of truth and light,
trampled on for months
filling my nose and brain.

I’ve found myself here again,
hints of my consensual participation
buzzing in my ears.

Its tail bats away a fly
Hooves march about
The stench becomes unbearable.

The last glowing flame catches both of our eyes
You look away,
You always look away.

We succumb to the darkness,
the loss of light is a signal.
A cosmic cue at a frequency only I can hear.

It says,
gently,
“Give up the responsibility” and
the lifelong question that haunts me in dim rooms:

Who will acknowledge these elephants?

You may also like...

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *