Tearing Roots Of Sorrow

Tearing Roots Of Sorrow
© Surazeus
2026 04 14

If Linda wants to sing of seeing time 
unfold our steadfast stars of frozen hope, 
then she may record riddles birds express 
to measure magnitude of selfish love 
since we are fragile flames of consciousness 
that flicker out before we understand. 

Since Linda perceives what is difficult 
with easy effort of the fractured moon, 
she might exchange beauty of her dream world 
to formulate new code for what is real, 
for she is fierce sprite of the cityscape 
who centers herself till she disappears. 

Disinterested in obvious metaphors 
that hollow space for absence of the heart, 
spry Linda notes that wind heaves in wild trees 
with quiet warmness of enclosing walls 
shaped by sharp subtlety of full-moon rays 
that wrap black sky around her plastic face. 

Through incomplete sentences of desire 
that strike list of observations on walls, 
snarky Linda leads us to hall of masks 
where we stand with her before too-square frames 
that subject fluid personalities 
with clumsy variables of dream syntax. 

Teaching our eyes to see uncanny truth 
which emanates from unnatural fragments 
of puzzles formed from dreams everyone shares, 
curious Linda places broken quill 
in my trembling hand with intimate smile 
and urges me to write spells with my blood. 

Amazed at spare beauty of gentle song 
that she unearths from ancient monoliths 
by tearing roots of sorrow from our hearts, 
grim Linda tells us how all things we see 
are shapes Death molds from rotten flesh of lust 
for we see each other with eyes of death. 

I interrupt her chant of thoughtful prayers 
in tangled conversation with blind ghosts 
to insist that I see with eyes of life 
because I love every person on Earth 
whose statues camouflage their emptiness 
which echoes strange abandonment of words. 

Her clear-eyed gaze of silent intellect 
strips mask of haughty pride from off my face, 
so we eat apple pie on the back porch 
then sing with crickets in the river reeds 
enraged at vow of silence Linda keeps 
when she transcribes their happy loneliness.