Shoulders Prison

by ZacharyWGilbert

Weary dying hearts, held by shoulders prison. Muscles tighten all around. Breath is sharp and shallow. In incarcerated darkness the soul atrophies. To converse and to point the shoulders away, throwing narcissistic sounds into a room, without showing the listener a heart. A dictator’s rant into a faceless crowd. Ears fall, shoulders rise, neck pinches down and the heart seals in a cold chamber. Words, words and words. To what end. What is the intent for those whose hear? Are they even listening anymore? Stories of others become trapped in hearts drowned under the crushing weight of the untiring wind of… self. A storm that fortified the prison of the entombed heart.

One day… perhaps. Deep soothing breath will find the nose and lock the mouth shut. Then slowly the shoulders may roll back. The torso could soften and pivot. The chamber of the heart would face another pushing forward aligning with another. Chains of the neck would free the chin and it would finally have space to humbly rise revealing an empty throat. Ears would swell large like storm clouds filling the sky. The mouth shrinks, like dirty bathwater rushing down the drain of a bathtub.

In such a moment, another heart has a chance to escape the darknes.

Written by Zachary W. Gilbert 2023

Floating Rat

by ZacharyWGilbert

The moment chews on the wires of my mind like an angry rat. It crawls in spaces between flesh and bone. It alters my thoughts, shifts my mood and influences my actions. When suddenly I realize, the dark event lives in me because my breath has stopped. Drawing a long steady breath in through my nose, I pull my shoulders away from my ears. I uncrush the back of my neck like a flattened pop can stretching into its original form. Muscles release toxins, it is carried out in dark blue blood. It is thrown free from my body in the invisible cloud of exhale. My chest cavity pumps out darkness, smooth and steady. The rat dissolves, acknowledged, accepted. Inhale, exhale. Ocean waves massaging the rough sandy shore of my memory. Thoughts roll and fade in and out of my attention. The moment is lost, and my muscles dissolve into a mist that holds no record.

Clouds

by ZacharyWGilbert

unnamedTrees reached their leafy fingers up through the hot summer air.  Cold mist hung above, swirling in the playful clouds.  They looked like giant ghosts dancing in the endless sky.  A light wind began to caress my face with its cool fingers.  The thunder rumbling in the distance persuaded me to squeeze my wife’s hand, “I think your right, we should bring our rain jackets to the fireworks show.”

• • •

Copyright © 2019 Zachary W. Gilbert

Lazarus Expanse

by ZacharyWGilbert

The humbled whisper of sorrow,

lives not in the hot flame.

Just as,

a tear shed in compassion

for another

is perhaps

 a vast lake, able

to quench

the dry throat

of the repentant.

. . .

A lavender scent filled the air as the rich man slid the new purple fabric over his shoulders.  The horizon was slowly swallowing the last beams of light.  Dinner would be laid out soon and tonight like every other night was going to be a feast.  A servant showed him the guest list.  Scanning the names with his eyes he saw that no one on the list was wealthier than him, “Very good,” he whispered under a smirk, “very good.”

The cool night air sent breezes over the dinner party.  They all sat in a circle around a large fire controlled by ornate stones.  Laughing they gorged themselves past the emptiness of hunger, past the dulled pressure of a full stomach, and into the realm of vomiting onto disheveled plates. “Get me more!” the rich man shouted, “Get me more at once!”

Below the balcony in the darkness was Lazarus.  He pressed his rotten body against the cold stone of the palace.  He was engulfed in pain.  Sores littered his body like wet leaves stuck to his gray flesh.  Weakness prevented him from being able to walk or sleep.  His last night on Earth would be spent groaning in a pile of trash.  All the while he whispered, “Dear God, I am so sorry.  I am so sorry…”

The servants emptied the trash from the dinner party onto the trash heap.  Warm vomit and chewed bread splattered all over the dying beggar.  Far above, the rich man laughed watching his servant take no notice of the beggar in his trash heap.  Dogs heard the clanking commotion of the plates and hurried over to eat the scraps.  They licked Lazarus’s body as he died.

Lazarus felt his soul slip his out of his body, like a weary traveler shedding a tattered and soiled coat.  He pain was instantly forgotten and he fell asleep in his new home of light and peace.  He stood upon a balcony of light overlooking a great void.  He noticed a ball of purple light falling into a distant lake that glowed red with flame.

Death tore the rich man from of his young body like a scab being removed from a wound.  The shock of the moment was over in a flash.  He felt his soul become engulfed in flames as if it were his very own skin.  Pain overwhelmed his senses.  His throat soon became dry from screaming. Seeing Lazarus across the  expanse he began to call out.  “Please! Get me water! Lazarus dip your finger in water and bring it to me!”

“No one can traverse the expanse that separates us,” an old man answered as he walked up and stood next to Lazarus.

“Then, at least send Lazarus to my family!  My brothers, I need to warn them about this awful place!”

“If they haven’t listened to those who were already sent with the message, then they would not listen to someone who has returned from the dead.”

The rich man became angry at the old man and began shouting and cursing.  Soon he began puking purple filth, as searing flames licked all over his burning body.

. . .

Copyright © 2019 Zachary W. Gilbert