Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR (A Collection of Select Works... / The City That Never Sleeps)
' SORROW BE THE COLOUR INDIGO
Bleeding-out the heart like Xylem sap,
oozing from the bark of november trees;
inertia, negotiating crooked grooves,
in depressed, sardonic spiral;
descending to the taste of the Autumn soil,
cold, dark, and bitter..........as sorrow be.
We bleed in darkest indigo,
thru' the rivers of our narrowed veins,
and arteries...streams of purpled blue,
like the wounded heart in pathos;
'less the wound breaks flesh into open air;
colour indigo.....turns darkest red.
Holding-cell for sorrow....the human heart be
harbouring poignance in its bundle branches;
warm pulse cradling, its burning-iced lament,
until faith lightens the heavy, delivers remission.
And sorrow then be a lifeforce....fervent,
as the verdant buddings of the april trees.
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