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Painful, a poem by Jay S. Zimmerman

by Jay S Zimmerman

Quiet Sunday, early morning

Sitting among bird sounds,

last rustle of evening cicadas,

light creeping around trees,

She is gone now

Leaving with moonlight

My heart empty

Like the lonely birdbath

At the edge of the garden

Void of water


Pierced by thorns of rose bushes

stumbling half heartedly into the day

Tears from hollow eyes

Drunk on loneliness

Broken from falling

Into the blood lilies

Memories of her footsteps

As the wood floors

creaked behind her

And the screened door

slammed shut

Bio: “I was born in the concrete caverns of New York amid the trolley bells and sounds of subways, travelled south to Miami Beach and thrived in the warm sands and salt air dancing to the musical rhythms of klesmer, cha cha and bossa nova, finally venturing to the dark soil, flat farmlands and rolling hills of the Midwest, where my roots have grown and been nourished for over 40 years. I am an artist, photographer, psychologist, social justice advocate and emerging writer as well as a person continuously discovering the beauty, joy and pain in our world.