Love Bestowed from Census 2020 by Lana Shkadova

And my awe for you will give roots
After falling down from the skies
In a form of bird poop
Onto tended and tender ground ---
And the seeds will grow into woods
For the elves to get lost amidst stems
Trees are quarters, eighths and sixteenths
Stumps are rests of two beats

And those hearts that you've axed
To adorn inside mountain cabins and halls
Join together at once in a silent protest
For more meaningful sound of yours...
Fireplace on a Holiday night
Baby, baby, it's cold outside...
Go to bed, in the red
And wake up in the white
In the morning there's poetry frozen
In the apathy of unpackaged projects...

In the boxes we move our minds
In condensed and tangible forms
As we hope that generations forward
We will find that love bestowed...
Returned back in one genuine thought...
...categorizing books into piles
and burning the spines into ashes, like logs...
___
02DEC2019

• Spoken Word
• author
• newage
• poet
• poetry
• spokenword
• Winston Salem