Muse-Pie Press send e-mail
title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Claudia Kessel


Page 1 | 2

Vishuddha

Fear lives in the throat like a swollen moon
Grief lodges there in chunks—food scraps collecting in a sink's drain

Shame croaks in clenched syllables—a crow perched darkly
caught in a thorny web of branches

When disgrace bows and tremors
its whisper leaks through wet vowels

Do not swallow your seeds of pain
their tendrils will slither up that moist passage to your lips

Humiliation tarnishes your teeth
chewing on the cud of rancor

How can my little sparrow of joy vibrate its melody
when sorrow clutches the body?

How can my mouth sing a love song
when it chokes with the dry cotton of suffering?