Six Stanzas for a Harlem Troll

Words From a Vivid Book


They found him huddled,

Underneath the bridge,

Turned by the ice into a stone,

No longer man, now just a thing.


Men took his body to the morgue,

Washed it clean then labelled it,

Before moving it to a new cold,

To be preserved a little while more.


Ice melted, stoney flesh became,

Dust in the furnace’s fiery maw,

And one or two remembered him,

A man reduced, a thing forgot.


He lived too long, they said,

In other people’s shadows.

Lived lives that seemed to turn,

On other’s whims and needs.


They threw the ashes to the wind,

Strew him across the garden bed,

The man who lived to help and please,

Now fed their roses while they forgot.


But simply, he just outlived himself,

Trying to find some sense of place,

Until he found himself now obsolete,

And turned to stone in winter light.

harlem troll

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Mourning song

Words From a Vivid Book


There will come a day,

When all the pain and sorrow,

That you carry,

Can be placed,

Upon the ground.

Then you will walk,

With unbent back,

And head held high.

That day will come.

I promise this to you.

And though it may not,

Come in days or months,

The time will come.

You will raise your face,

To greet the morning sun,

And feel your tears,

Dried by the gentle breeze.

You will stand on some high place,

And feel the corners of a smile,

Once more embrace your heart.

All that was heavy,

All you lost,

All that you saw as wounds,

Will fall away,

On that unexpected day.


Know your time,

Will come.

So walk, stumble,

Fall and rise,

As best you can,

Until that day,

For all the pain you feel,

Is worthy of the walk.

One day,

One day,

Creator whispers,


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