Task for a Muse

How do I shout
entwined as I am
about the doorframe
bounded by the step? A thorn
or two to snag passersby
(when one strident voice
is no more heeded than another
or silence) heeded not at all.
I have been rooted
in the earth fluid only
with the wind’s desire
and though I sought voice
after voice, bearing flower fruit
year on year I am nothing
no arms to move you but
my whispered song

 

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