Rebirth

A sprinkle of dust flutters to rest
There is no heart beating in that old chest
The photographs sit still, fading to grey
Framing dying people, memories, decay
Seal the coffin beneath
Close the crooked, cracked teeth
Take a hammer to its rotted frame
Until the wooden bones have lost their name
Build a crib from the debris
As done with the original tree
Declutter those ancient drawers
To hold an infant within its stores
This old chest will be born again
emptying the burden of what it had been
And life anew will grow inside
Now that this old broken past has died.

 

Happy National Poetry Month!!!

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