My tongue
Keeps finding that hole
Where the sharp tooth
Loosely survived
The rehearsed emotion
A secondary nature
To seek what once was
Actively part of something
Or someone
Apart from everything
It remains a phantom
Existing as a faded tribute
Even after its demise
My mind
Keeps wandering back
To that feeling
Which spread like Irish moss
Across every nook and cranny
Of my innermost shell
Muscle memory
Flexing its final nerve endings
Forgetting the primal aches
It had just endured
Remembering the lies
That should never be forgotten
In order to sustain
My heart
Categorically rejecting
That pathetic indulgence
Refusing to game
Challenging the quotient
Of the positive consultation
Collectively classifying
The minor infractions
Of the common denominator
No, my heart is no victim
It holds none hostage
Nor is it black and bitter
Like a wise matriarch
Owning the will of her herd
It marches steadfastly
Towards an inland delta
Absolutely certain of returning
To the sanctuary

16 thoughts on “Pilgrimage

  1. steph

    This is a beautiful poem. I like the questions posed, the language, the flow, and especially from collectively classifying on down it is stunning. I appreciate the beauty of it, but I don’t find the word, path, that needs to appear in the entry. Nevertheless, it’s beautiful writing.

  2. atrm61

    Awesome poem!Loved all of it but the lines that touched me most are,”…No, my heart is no victim
    It holds none hostage
    Nor is it black and bitter

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