Sara Clark

A Lone Girl’s Song

Singing, as though my hopes were alive with fire,

Singing, with my heart pressed in the cold palm of snow,

Singing, ‘till my voice is the sound of the wind against holly,

Singing, and gazing up at moon’s blurred edges

A cloud unwinds, the symphony is spoiled,

Singing now again at the lonesome orange glow of road

Singing, hopes too small to be held are fast escaping,

Singing, at the sky that shines above this lonesome garden,

Singing, though death prowls fiercely about its walls,

Singing of the honour of a monster

Singing of a beggar at a closed door

Singing of the wind on the desolate shore

Still singing, fearful even now of heaven,

Singing, my bootless feet wet with grass

Singing, and laying out a little grave for my heart

Singing, and kneeling, and putting it in.

Copyright © Sara Clark 2013

Sara Clark is a writer and film-maker based in The Scottish Borders. Her work has most recently appeared in Gold Dust magazine, The Eildon Tree and The Penniless Press.


About sunnydunny

Poet, publisher, gardener
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One Response to Sara Clark

  1. raefonb says:

    Some very solid imagery here; I thought the repetition of “singing” would get tedious but it worked really well. Great poem. Your work on Poetandgeek (issue 7) was good too.

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