“The Plum Tree” by Ken Allen Dronsfield

 

How did the despair become

fluid for clear, dry eyes to shed?

Why did the burden on the heart

allow the stress and cause the beat

to finally stop now limp to the touch?

I’ve learned to live bringing such pain,

to bear as a heaviness and darkness

conjoin in a ripe nectar squeezed from

my mind creating an apathetic caste.

In these times of death, we hum our

dirges and become oracles of peace

while pounding that holy black book

forever coalesced by millions of souls

whom freely gave lives in vindication.

Remorseful, I’ve learned to inhale deep

as I await my turn to be quickly plucked

from that great plum tree of life, ripe as

I search for epistemic loftiness within.

 


Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, poet and fabulist who is a three-time Pushcart Prize and two-time Best of the Net Nominee for 2016-2017. His work has been published world-wide in various publication venues. Ken loves writing, thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night and spending time relaxing and playing with his cats Willa, Turbo and Hemi.

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