The Pillar Of Tears

It was an Eastern cistern underground -

a chamber dim of columns; once the key

to waters pure - slaves built it for the free;

a patterned pillar yet unchanged was found

whose frozen tears seemed but to break in sound -

the tears were notes – a silent symphony

of suffering they made – a melody

of unheard souls, that soothed each spirit's wound.

Their voices formed a chorus - this they sang:

'We are the ghosts of tired limb and mind;

how tedious did our despot ruler find

our sorrows - he whose name down ages rang;

the hidden world in life we drifted through,

while monuments majestic shrine the few.'

the pillar of tears poem chris laverty

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keith jeffries

Sun 12th May 2019 23:39

Chris,

An unusual poem but one which cannot fail to stir one´s emotions. I am able to see this cistern through the eyes of the writer for which I thank your words.

Thank you
Keith

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