An occasional ask of numbness
from the grief that pours through the earth’s veins.
For the leaves are entrenched in the blood of the innocent,
with her eyes hopeless.
And the earth rebels and roars at the injustice.
but justice will come.
Surely justice will come.
This uplifting resonance dissipates
like the wind
and I look to you to gather it
The comfort of your warmth holds me
tighter, I ask of you
With gritted teeth I tear at my chest and dig
bits of bone and flesh flying
only to find the heart empty.
And through tear filled eyes I blink at the remains,
blurred feet and blood pooling.
And so there is nothing to do
but stitch together the remains.
The thread protrudes, scars bold and evasive
but the thread is strong
the mould holding
And so to the sky, tear filled, hazy eyes
I let the air brush my cheek
And mournful howls rustle the leaves
the heart is pounding
And you latch on to the moment
This cavity feels full once again.
A dead heart.
Blackened and rusted, these sins have darkened
and the gates of hell are closed
and burning embers flee for a moment,
Eyes shut. To charred flesh giving way for Gardens of Bliss
if only the chance is taken,
While the devils are chained up
and the gates of hell are closed.
Life can return to the dead and flaking heart.
Cradle this vessel between your palms
and fill it
Until blood overflows from the emptiness, this lifelessness,
cold and colder, fill this vessel with warmth.
Cradle this vessel between your ribs
and fill it
Until the dark is dragged down
and gratitude is spaced within your chest.
There is a voice in my head that tells me only You can fill my heart
and the demons inside me fight it.
And I fight the demons
Knowing their whispers bring my destruction.
Sowing seeds of doubt, delicate stitching,
With thin, black string warping the tendrils of my heart
and thoughts flitting past,
I cannot catch them.
Fearing the day the blackness within me finds it’s way to my tongue,
after all, the soul emerges through conversation
and the tongue is a powerful weapon that can sow your destruction.
And I need to find the strength to fight them.
A path weaved of many paths,
Borne from the actions of one and the thoughts of another.
Twisting and turning, carving, walls towering, ensnared from every side, keenly observing. Which path? What will be and what will become of me?
Valleys sweeping low through the hillside, paving the way through dense fog, stumbling. Or climbing, over dark and heady air, breathe and breathe again, in and out.
Inhale the the sweetness of the coolness surrounding me. A warm embrace guiding through the unknown, so many paths to the one destination.
I am not convinced of the path ahead. Two steps left, one step right. A puzzle missing pieces, no victory, no conclusion in site.
Yet to stand still with so many opportunities. Only a fool stands still.
Take the first step.