Posthumously Yours

Posthumously Yours

Dust knows not color, religion, or sex,
dust conceals lies, obscures truth, redirects.
In blinding storms it ravishes and chokes.
It springs new life, then, ruthlessly revokes.

We sweep it out the door to hide our screams.
It's face's form the shattering of dreams.
Dust settles, changing muddy springtime rain.
it festers wounds, captures youth, embraces pain.

Words of my days are scattered in the breeze...
whispers lost to winds, sighs amidst the trees.
Settling on the sills of souls windows, posed;
shuttered by sheer stubbornness, latches closed.

Now- these words are otherworldly...
now the feelings seem your own?
Now- the shadows veil your blame,
Now- you give deceit a home?
Now the dust defies your shame...
now you hear lost soul's refrains?

Ignored before, why would you heed me now ?
Afraid I'd break your trust, or disavow
some sad responsibility I bore...
when ill was never done to you before ?

Did you believe I dealt in dread deceit?
Were you concerned your secrets be complete?
Need reassurance I'd be without gain?
or...was I just object of your disdain?

Here now, as dust, my raspy voice enthralls.
You bend to hear, each tearful word that falls.
Death equalizes words once held inside
and utters what my living breath denied.

You listen now, my ghostly voice sounds clear-
I don't provoke attack, invoke your fear.
Words streaming now from some ethereal plane...
So curious- since my words ring out, the same.

(rewrite of PTG improv 8.17.03)