My spirit is one that has been through much.
My eyes have witnessed too many tears.
My heart has ached, and felt like granite.
My soul is imprisoned by good and evil.
And, yet I feel a spiritual need to cling to hope.
Spirituality is there for those who have been to Hell and back,
(So they say)
I've glimpsed Hell in my family, through secrets and lies,
they multiply, until you lose count.
Now, I wasn't beaten, molested or deprived,
I just had to live in a village where everyone knew everything.
About you, your family, your soul. Imagine that.
No freedom to be unique. To be you.
You kick, you scream, you try to be free, to flee,
but, the village brings you back,
time and time again.
It feeds off your fear, your hate.
Village life is not quaint, picturesque,
or even idyllic, it's full of grudges,
jealousy, hate and even ******,
(or two)
Families feuding over long forgotten grudges.
Families related, through marriage and hate.
Families haunted and taunted by their past.
Families dying with secrets on their lips, and in their hearts.
Along with this came religion,
as many chapels as pubs.
And as many ghosts as the living.
Walk through my mind, walk through my village.
Come, meet the dead
© JLB
21/06/2014