Death VII: Denial and Delusion

I don’t think Death takes all the lives that it has stolen
around with it;
He would have too much to carry.
I’ll look for where He keeps them
and return yours to you;
we’ve got so much more to do.
I’ll make sure you are not buried
till I hurry back with you.

Can’t anything at all be done to bring you back?
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Wounded Healer III

Goddess of Forests

I’m shedding everyone’s tears
but I can’t shed my own.
I’ve got it all under control in public;
I’m a mess when I’m alone.
Pain has injected itself into me;
I can feel it bite through each bone.
I’m decaying on the inside,
but this body is not mine to disown.

My heart and soul are drowning,
and I can’t stretch my hands
to reach them through my throat.
They’ve absorbed too much;
they’re heavy,
but I can’t save them.
I can’t drain the tears and blood;
I can’t heal them.

So, I’ll shed my tears through my mouth.
I’ll cry with my hands and feet,
with my words,
and with my songs,
and with my dance,
till I feel my heartbeat.
I’ll shed my tears as sweat;
they can’t pass through my eyes just yet.

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
literally.
If you can sincerely find
someone or something else beautiful,
especially one that is often considered otherwise,
without an iota of doubt,
you are beautiful too.

I am You

I am a long poem;
you read parts of me often.
I find bits of me in my thoughts;
you find bits of you in my words.
You read my voice in your voice;
you see your words in my words.
It’s your whole truth sometimes,
and sometimes, it is not.
I am you sometimes,
and sometimes, I am not,
and at other times,
you are not exactly sure.

For Writers III: Do You

african.jpg

You can write about “nothing”
but you can’t write about nothing.
Your writing is beautiful,
and most importantly,
it’s a part of your soul;
it’s yours,
and you should never compare it to anyone else’s.

Love and improve your own work.

Letting Go, Letting Grow II

Everything is in place except your heart;
everything is well except you.
You’re strong,
but your soul is not.
You possess this and that now,
but you don’t have the one thing
you so badly want back,
so, you have nothing.
You’ve lost one thing,
but you feel like you’ve lost everything.

Your red blood is now light grey;
your saliva tastes like sorrow.
Your pain-filled heart is now broken,
and its contents are running through your veins,
mixing with your blood,
harming your soul,
harming your self.

The sharp ends of your heart are pinching you.
You’re too sad to cry,
too sad to groan,
too sad to sleep,
too sad to live.

You’re dying;
you’re experiencing death in life.
You’re letting go of your old self,
and you’re birthing your new self.

He’s never coming back.
She’s never coming back.

It hurts.
“Aaaaargh”, it really hurts.

The Soul

The soul will go wherever it wants,
whether or not the soles will go too.