Sometimes I wonder

if I even survived
my childhood.

Maybe some part of me
is sleeping
up on the hill.

One of those
Nightmares
That I couldn't escape
Carried me off
In its jaws

and so maybe
I am planted.
Looking down
At all the people
I can't remember.

I hope that I am ashes.
I never wanted a stone.

You will not see my shadow pass
the gate of mournings eerie dark
Nor hear my voice among the reeds
that grow above my silenced heart
No fondest kiss to furrowed brow
to quell the torment of your making
for you have left me here alone
to sleep the sleep that knows no waking.

Another day falling
from the crack of yesterday,

a patch of pearl
burning in the amber west
flaring up heaven
firing me up
in the pains of solitude
and poetry.

Home beckons through a dark way
where hope breathes eternal
as lanterns of moonlit leaves.

I won't mourn the loss
but fill all the void
with paper and ink.

High walls protected
her wounded heart which
from a secret garden became
a haunted graveyard...