Mockingbirds Poem by I.J. Benjamin

today the day was short

there was little sun

there were clouds


and my mockingbirds were
gone...

did you shoot my hopes?
little things upsetting no one.
destined for nothing but dreaming.

yet you shot them.

i know you did.

how does it feel?

it doesn't matter. they didn't have
long left anyway.

no one does.

it is silent.
again.

i fear it's time.

that time when the tears will not flow no more, the fallen will not fall no more, deepest depths will not deepen more.
something like that.

but i don't know because
it is not.

it never is.

poems are written about times like those,
grey beards are scratched in these thoughts.
and they never come when you want them to
come,

there is always enough left
to cling to
and the cliff is never there until it is
until you really are old and
bitter
and your liver is failing
and your teeth are cracking
and all the passion has been
sucked out of you.

the world is like a sponge.

and YOU have killed my mockingbirds.