This Man

the most captivating,
spellbinding man
with words
cool and smooth,
voice clear and perfect
as a summer morning begun
on the quiet coast
measly is he only in grace,
robust with everything else
his confidence is effortless
as he’s always been
convinced of his own precision
though
obtusely open to suggestion
he drives a caravan of empty cages
the old homes of broken hearts
he’s cupped, and plucked and
chucked along the way
some endure longer than others,
settled
for the sentences they’d given
to themselves
others step just one toe inside
and burn
their tender feet on ages,
layers deep with passion
running they go
pride all bruised,
swallowed tears seal cursed vows
upon their lips in prudence
still, more suffer willfully
pulling shut their prison’s door
never knowing
that he hasn’t got the key
until malnourished they tumble
out from between bars
weakened, demented
granting forgiveness easily
in exchange for some morsel,
anything…

copyright Ruth Nineke 2011



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