You sang a song of eternal sanctum <br />Beneath a sliver moon of hope renewed <br />I discerned your mother’s voice, as it passed <br />Like an Olympic torch, to your daughters, <br />In their first, unsteady hymns - <br />Sometimes, growing old, we begin to <br />Realize the painted walls that we adored <br />Are really those of exile <br /> <br />Love is a freight train of possibility, <br />Interspersed with grain and granite dreams - <br />Churning full velocity, you can’t command <br />Its halt to avoid the rocks ahead <br /> <br />With the seasons, we heap our mounds <br />Of expectation - sometimes pulling rip-cords - <br />Sometimes, emergency brakes, to find they are <br />Man-made and subject to human flaw - <br />You sang a song to overcome the <br />Emptiness of weeping echoes, <br />The caverns of hollow promise - those <br />Stalagmite daggers of damage wrought<br /><br />Kelly Vinal<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/damaged/
