How long did I howl in feral woe,
spraying winter air with misshapen sounds
that said nothing while saying the whole thing?
From the bottom of my deepest breath
I gathered the full volume of one man's voice,
hitched it to my disbelief, my stunned surprise,
and sent it full speed like a slap against the silence.
One loud and long wounded recitation
that carried no language, no speech, no wit.
This was death of a loved one,
a betrayal at the hands of neighbors,
slander by those who knew better.
I have taken your beating, your ballots
thrown in mute fury like flailing fists.
The bruises you made are blooming,
shades of purple, black and blue,
the pigments of insult and injury that
you wanted to see me wear.
But I've a better purpose for these tints,
dissolving them into collected tears,
distilling the hurt into a poet's ink.
The tongue of history speaks with me
and tomorrow has no ear for your lies.
About the Poem
This poem was written the day after a bitterly disappointing outcome in the 2004 elections.
This poem was written in 2004 and is previously unpublished in print.