“In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest
where no-one sees you, but
sometimes I do, and
that sight becomes this art.”
― Rumi

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Inconsolable

When you reach out 
from darkness and know
Whose fingers lace in yours 
No questions asked about 
where you lead them

When you pour out
the black ink in your soul
And watch it spread on
Pristine white
Not caring how 
it blots out the light

When you think not
To pull your punches 
Or blunt the glinting edge
of your words that draw
Angel blood with a whisper

When you see 
the Ugly in you
In the mirror only One can
hold up without 
turning to stone 
in the glare of
your medusa head

When you fly home
With wounded wings
dripping lifeblood
and try to heal
Selfishly feeding on 
Another soul, not knowing 
or caring how much
is to spare

And in the end
when you calm down
Having stifled sobs 
into her pink pyjama top with
The hugging grey teddies
You do feel better 
and it hurts a little less

But never can you forget
The echoing sorrow of the
Wide eyed little boy

Inconsolable 

In the hollow corridor as
Your lifeless words 
tumble out
Already turning to dust

Meaningless

Much like your efforts 
To save his father

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