Around the village the rumour flew
strong against the winds which blew
through the trees and above the church
and below a beast in hell did lurch
he just fell down one lady said
broke his arm and hit his head

and all the while my tummy turned
as nobody ever seems to learn
that this is private, the death of a soul,
a crime to betray it with glass and coal.

 But still they continue to talk amid
the changing seasons and silent bid
of a better day, years from now
when I no longer shy in gathering crowds
when beneath me are boots as strong as iron
my heart beating fast and brave as a lion 

yet somehow I cannot cliché my flaws
amongst the battles of their gossip wars
killing my pride and my banging head
as I lay my demons and fears to bed.

Yet my father listens and smiles with ease -
Because I am breathing, despite these grieving seas.

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Author guidance for This poem

Someone died, and people talked. I cried and lost my own true thoughts. I wrote a poem and all was well, so I thought I'd share. My weapon. My armour. My darkest spell.

updated Aug 20 '11 by scampii091