Draft 2 - O Martyr

[wasellajam]

O Martyr

I know why the wind is without birdsong
and mothers humming infants to sleep.
I have seen enough, how it could all end
in an instant, or an instant's
aftermath. My voice forms words
you cannot hear; I'm scared that
I’m too far away to feel their gravity,
or the pull of home beneath the feet.
Though in your trust I've hid this grief,
this pact with earth that I'd return
to see out of your garment of existence
and struggle, its memory is entombed.
At night I'd wonder if I hid anything at all.
Whomever that I was, I hear
light calling me to bloom
and how these roots run deep.

Draft 1 - O Martyr

I know why the wind is without birdsong
and mothers humming
infants to milk-drunken sleep.
I have seen enough, how it could all end
in an instant, or an instant's
aftermath. My voice forms words
you cannot hear; I'm scared that
I’m too far away to know their gravity, or
the pull of home beneath my feet.
Though in your heart I've hid
this sadness, an unflinching pact
to earth that I'd return to see
through your garb of existence
and struggle, its memory is faded. Then,
I was not sure I hid anything at all.
Whoever it was I was, I am
called by light to bloom
and how these roots run deep.

This is a beautiful edit. Where the original had me drifting off a bit the poem now holds me all the way through. I paricularly like trust, entombed and at the end the change from it was to that. A great example of gentle but deft editing. Thanks for posting it.