I heard about the butcher who
butchered his wife.
I read about the candlemaker
who snuffed out his dog’s life.
I saw the gardener with a
pitch fork at his throat,
threatening to end it all
at the remote end of a rope.
The village is haunted by this
nightmarish tale of fraught after
scenes of bone-rattling wails.
The community is hung by their
nightly entrails of non-stop
battling over the wicked details,
of stories of horror with nothing to tell.
No end. No where. No peace, in sight.
No witness to witness
the final thoughts or breath
of your love’s plodded, frightful
Jay Mora-Shihadeh was born in the greater metropolitan area of Philadelphia, Pa. He attended The University of the Arts, in Philadelphia, Pa. receiving a B.F.A. in painting and drawing. My background is primarily Fine Arts, with a concentration in Painting and Drawing, and for what’s it’s worth, obtained a certificate in Art Therapy. Late in life I began to write poetry. I experienced a unique feeling that some entity took over my body and mind, and words (verse) kept hounding me. I had this same phenomena occur as a young child. At the time, I didn’t pay much attention to what was happening in my thoughts. Words didn’t come easy to me. I related to, and considered myself a visual person, it was my comfort zone. I had journaled for many years prior and through this process, it evolved into writing poetry. One day I decided to obey the internal prompts I was getting and let it flow. What did I have to lose anyhow? It felt right. It felt natural.