A Cry In The Wilderness Poem by L C Vieira

You don't speak my name
but tell me
to silence my made-up stories.
Trivialities!

You stomp away then.
Ears close, eyes
weave deep holes to tear truth apart.
Do you fear her sighs?

Is it pleasant to
be deceived?
Slice and divide
gnarling gravel seed.

Ghouls curse the hardened roots
of sweat blood,
crushed carelessly with secret rocks
to build the kingdom.

Hear whispers, 'Poison's
sure demise! '
in a weary, weeping forest
where all close their eyes.

You glare that I dare
to cry too -
and so, miss the wicked widening
of the web for you.