Muddled Words Poem by Stefan BR

Below the clouds,
bruising the surface
everyday now…
something like
a loud quake
buries deep
and scratches
words in the mud.

A gust
of many sounds
erased the light -
and
didn't I try
to pick them up,
to reach them out,
to thunder after
every word,
like a dry,
desert-dimmed turtle
would plunge
for every drop
in the rain.

I walked all the descended darkness
to reach out the lyrics,
splashing, wuthering and numbing…
drumming like the feathers
of a flying bird,
looking -
at the foamed sea.