My blackbird is awake, transcribing
a piece to pretty for common ears to bear
it speaks to corpses with screeching violins
and whispers to angels what they fear to hear
A melody at ease when lights used to flicker
she rests her hand on hers
her untamed lips, once abhorred
create lovely tones screaming evaded words
the earth turns at the end of a song
but a voice unprotected, suffers ultraviolet burns
End the war, she is a girl
with just two tears orchestrating a tale
that, at dawn, my blackbird still chirps
so naturally, my pen catches the night unfurled
- Chelsea A.
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