She is awoken by voices,
She is alone.
In a strange place
She calls home.
Echoing off the walls,
In the midst of silence found,
They who have no name,
Each of their words resound.
She hates the silence,
It’s when they are so loud.
Whatever noise she can make
To ward off absent sound.
There is a voice she fears above most,
The one who, from the silence, boasts.
She hates his persistence.
She is insistent that he leave.
She fails and fails and fails again.
Any other voice from the din!
The many shout at her,
She does not give in.
But the one quietly calls,
From behind a door that’s cracked open
When the others leave.
He calls to her, her fears.
Things forgotten from across the years,
And then she remembers why
They were pushed aside.
Then in her heart
She deeply wishes the voices to depart.
And she hears
So softly in her ear,
“You will believe us absent, asleep,
You will rejoice in your soul deep.
You will forget what I tell you now
And you will remember each time we return our sound
You, in your fear, may not belong,
And we will never truly be gone.”
She closed her eyes,
And awoke alone; or so she was told.
She rose to the window,
And thought the sun too bright to be this cold.
Posted in From the shadows
Tagged alone, awoke, bright, cold, echo, fear, forget, gone, hate, home, loud, place, poem, poetry, remember, resound, silence, sleep, soul, sun, voice, window, words
What paths illuminated by the small stars in the dark
Are to be tread when the deep hours of the night depart?
One may wander and stumble to and fro,
In doing so they squander what time they have to find home.
Given time one may learn what dim path to take
As long as the lesson they do not abbreviate.
Even the wisest are not certain of which dark star to follow,
But their minds are open to learn which ends are hollow.
We all choose a path and further down may choose another,
we cannot always tread the same way as our sisters and brothers.
Posted in Musing
Tagged brother, choose, dark, home, lesson, path, poetry, sister, star, wander, way
I thought I heard you say,
“We left the lights on.”
Home to return,
And now I’ve learned
How I was wrong.
You take me back,
A million times,
And forgiven me.
Your love for me.
I’ll pay you back some,
Pay you back someday.
But you say I’ve no debt to pay.
I found a bone
I brought it home
It once walked over dirt and stone,
It held a creatures flesh and skin,
It was partially the vessel the soul had traveled in.
I found a bone, a bone called sin.
I found a bone, the bone was dead.
Though alive in my head,
To me it said:
“What I was, I no longer am,
Though you hold me still I stand,
And one day will become the sea and land.”
I set it down then to display,
How it still stands, in a way,
How it still moves, and runs and plays.
You’ll see this too, if you consider decay.
Posted in Musing
Tagged bone, death, decay, dirt, head, home, play, poetry, run, soul, stone, veseel
She laid her once holy blade in the mud,
Raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun,
To gaze across a wasteland soaked in blood.
She looked for her brothers, for survivors, anyone,
Naught but frozen, lifeless eyes met her gaze.
Thousands and thousands marched with her from home,
So quickly torn from their halcyon days,
To the final resting place for their souls.
For herself she weeps, not so much the dead.
Her price? No release for herself to find.
For such a price, can “This is peace.” be said?
She mourns for the world that she’ll leave behind.
There’s no absolution in crimson tide.
There is no peace where so many must die.
Posted in Life and death, Sonnets
Tagged absolution, alone, battle, battlefield, blood, brothers, crimson, death, die, home, pardon, peace, poetry, release, soaked, tide, war
A day in the trees,
Forgetting troubles below.
Far ahead she can see.
Vision unobstructed so,
One might wonder why,
Why would she ever come down?
Trees against a tempting sky,
Their branches make it impossible to frown.
Every comfort she could need there;
One blissful nap among the leaves.
Those troubles below need her care
In her those troubled believe.
She is not her own,
She is needed elsewhere.
The trees are not her home,
But she will seek them when time will spare.
She wanders alone and unafraid,
Fearless with nothing left to lose.
Lonely? Never. It’s not a path to choose.
Over the oceans, her plans laid.
Often thinks of why she left it;
Her birthplace still home, and how
She misses it but not so much now.
With what life offers, she has no desire to sit.
Wandering across her narrow path of stone,
Down the straight and narrow she was never truly alone.