The Unsung Chorus
She went beyond the delicate tracks.
Her heart being dazzled, imprints
in vicinity, dangled softly.
The scent of Judas in the midst!
Her suspicions never faltered.
She knew the early morn prayer,
whistled an unfamiliar tune.
She buckled her girdle to the Cross
to rescue my arms from the wolves
lurking quiet in the meadows.
The cold morning rush consented,
moved by her deafening entreat.
Delivered my careful shadow
unto the soul swallowing heat.
Scattered senses, in trembling knees
I saw the fire in her popped eyes.
She flung wide in front, the verses
marked in green and black underlines.
Hands soaked in stocking numbness
My throat croaking in staccatos,
as I gulped down the passages.
“Once more” her thunder noise. “Louder!”
her voice gyrated in tempo
with echoes of surging temper.
Alas, my mother’s ire dispersed,
the charm of the mystical dawn.
Icy dewdrops gliding my soul
to high realms, vowed not to return.
Now in midnight solace, my soul
O my soul! I will find a home.
And when the evenin’s curtain falls,
the song unfurled its melody.
And trumpets blast for worship calls
crooning the first lines, she taught me.
The unknown traces in the trails
are the missing lines of the song.
Missing chorus she searched but failed.
Once more, I sing it loud and strong.