A Dirge For Harpies

I have survived
Too long, too much
Indeed, withstood
To fall now
Down, farther into greater shadows

The light will not drift
I will not allow that
I have allowed too much
Already

Piranhas orbit
Rude carrion
Crawl across the spine
However bent, however broken
Taking little pieces of me
Viciously, delightedly
Careless

No longer

I will not bear their weight
But rise
Anew, fresh in the morning
Their snares, fog
Their hooks, mist
Burnt off under
The touch of the sun

The tunnel has lengthened
But not grown too long
Not yet
To swallow any hope
Of reaching the end

So long
You feeble
Fickle
Febrile
Flock of witless vulturous
Harpies
You amalgam of offal
Disgorged from a creature as
Deceitful, as pathetic and simple

I am broken clay but
There is more to the stone
Than there is to you

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