When I Die Let My Death Be the Cry of the Earth

by Kenneth Godoy

When I die let my death be the cry of the earth.
From it I have come. To it I will go. For it I have longed.
It compels me and I cannot escape it.
It is day again. It is night. What forces the dawn?
What waits in the dark? The universe remains
most silent at night because should you cry out
no one will hear your longing.

Then I sleep, and I dream that

a bird flies in the face of a tower as the twilight settles in peace
upon everything. The bird flies upward, but the tower swells,
overtaking the earth with its shadow and shape,
swallowing the form of the bird, over-arching everything.
The bird understands the tower is impossible to penetrate or pass around.
A screeching, seething silence overwhelms the bird
but still it flies – a mere speck now – still it flies to overcome the tower.


Kenneth Godoy is a poet and photographer.


Photography by Kenneth Godoy

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