Broken Poem by Vinita Agrawal

Broken


This broken home is like a chopped tree trunk
Showing rings of life ruthlessly axed

Leaving behind an upturned patellar face of pain
Breath broken in a cinch

Its lode of warmth is plundered
Rime's leftovers straggle the trashcan like cold meat

I sense the condors circling above, in my bones
As they scavenge for the rich, juicy morsels of a home, now dead

The aged wind is weary of reviving fires so often doused
It's shoulders too weak to carry ashes heavy with severing

So this is how things break in this world
This is how hope loses altitude

There must be someone to blame
There must also be someone who will lead me back to myself
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