Chavez Fall 2011 Issue - Seton Hall University

Flightless
By Christian Trinidad
When a tree falls with no one around,
I am the sound.
Vacancy bound to physical form,
Storm of electrical phenomena.
Miracle? I think not.
The venom pulsing through a vein,
The thirst for acid rain,
Endurance of pain through torrential
Ceaseless downpour-
I am nothing more.
What once I was shall never be.
A question posed so famously,
“What impact on your soul was she?”
Emotions left in a foster home,
Frozen at my feet.
Lest we should meet, please let them know
To and fro the body rages;
Cages for birds who have never flown
Weighed down with feathered burden
Rust sooner than the rest.
The sun erupts beneath my lids,
Burns the pages of our story,
Melts the shackles I had hoped for.
Movement. Movement free.
We are free and frozen.
Lost.
Remnant of an echo.
I am the reverberation of a death rattle.
And in my pristine waters lies a history
Never settled.
A tree falls in the woods upon deaf ears,
Why, why, why can’t you hear me?
Wishful thinking at its finest demands an audience.
Therefore, I beg to ask of you,
“Which of you will ever know the sorrow felt by snow?”
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