It is a
terrible gestating
within
a low, relentless
rumbling thunder
in the distance
deep within
the abysmal well
of its own gravity
roiling and boiling
over upon itself
causing tremors
suppressed with
a trembling will
peeling steel plating
from iron bones
unsealed
it tears itself
from diaphragm
all lung
trachea
phalanx and phlegm
behold as trembles
once secured by
butterflies
now transmuted
shattering bedrock
to find fault in
fault lines
as timid heads flinch
and even the bold
cower in confusion
oh yes
that heaven-piercing howl
is my voice
it is mine
your inherited rights
those monolithic
brittle sensibilities
are yours
for now
steady yourself
or don’t
you and I are
well past decorum.
© BJ Dawson — 2020, 2025, originally posted on Medium and WordPress
Oh yeah, and I published a book! What is it about? What an attractive question!
Tips are always welcome.
Strong piece, BJ. Sensitive, emotional, with raw truth and power.