poems

the tomb that never closes

the tomb does not close, 
its stone left ajar like a broken promise, 
and i am no longer the hero of this story. 
the sword i once wielded gleams dull in the corner, 
untouched, unloved, 
its magic drained the same way i have been. 

i was someone once, 
a person with light in their eyes, 
a wanderer who laughed with the stars, 
who could charm the wind into carrying my voice. 
now, i am a shadow cast by a shadow, 
a fragment of something once whole, 
a name whispered and forgotten by even the trees. 

grief wears my face and sleeps in my bed. 
it lingers like a curse spun by a bitter sorcerer. 
my days are an endless stretch of gray lands, 
where the sky refuses to cry, 
but i drown all the same. 

the mirror speaks in riddles i cannot solve, 
its silver surface reflecting someone i do not know. 
"where are you?" it seems to ask. 
i wonder that too. 
my heart a hollowed-out castle, 
its halls silent and haunted, 
its windows shuttered against a sun i can no longer bear to see. 

the ghosts i carry speak of who i used to be. 
they murmur secrets in languages i no longer understand. 
"she was a phoenix," they whisper, 
"once golden, once rising." 
but the ashes lie cold now, 
and no flame comes to lift me from this ruin. 

sometimes, i stand on the edge of the world, 
looking into the void,
and it looks back, inviting me home. 
but i know it is no home. 
no throne. 
no freedom. 

still, the thoughts call, 
like sirens dragging sailors to the deep, 
their songs so sweet, so final. 
but i stay. 
not because i want to, 
but because the tomb does not close. 

somewhere, in this broken land of mine, 
a seed may still sleep beneath the frost. 
a remnant of something green, 
a dream i do not remember dreaming. 
i do not know if it will grow. 
i do not know if i will live to see it bloom. 

but for now, i let the tomb stay open. 
i sit in its shadow and listen to the wind, 
the same wind i once charmed, 
hoping it will carry back a voice i remember.