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 Feb 2016 SeeNhlanhla Moment
ryn
Let the poetry...
Write itself....
As the ripe new moon
strums the swaying
silhouettes of the night.

Let the poetry...
Write herself...
With the vast
expanse of obsidian sky.
Pocked subtly with the shy
murmurs of the stars...
Offering solace and peaceful respite.

Let the poetry...*
Write of you...
As the splendour...
Envelopes each unspoken letter.
Embedding words of warmth,
that seize my heart
in a state of enamour...
Before taking its majestic flight.
 Feb 2016 SeeNhlanhla Moment
L
2/19
 Feb 2016 SeeNhlanhla Moment
L
As I sat in a room full of hundreds,
   crying and shaking and remembering,
I fully realized that
I am not my pain...
I am not what happened to me...
I am not what she did to me...
I am more than my depression.
I am more than my suicide attempt.
I am more than my ******.
**I am still here.
I am stronger than ever  

Leigh
Two shadowy figures
    start toward each other
         each staring from the other end
               of a long hall.

Both held ornate candlesticks
            made of brass, held head high,
                      candles flickering.

Slowly they approached
      one another, neither uttering
              no grunt nor word.

The candlelight walls bear
graffiti smeared in dark red blood
that bathe in the light as the sticks grew near.

Each door they passed
      had stylized golden number plates,
           behind them echoed whispers.

Slowly the cloaked figures met,
     standing face to face, the candles snuffed,
                 only to find they were the only light.
Nothing held onto,
nothing remains
only You, Lord,
only Your claims
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