Fooling clouds cross my view
passing hurts and pleasures.
Blue on white on white on blue
'till black has broken through.
I dreamt that it
finally died last night,
that it was truely over.
Waves of guilt and fear
to carry me away
until I could see no longer
that place where I started from
and I no longer knew
that place I was headed to.
Now,
I gather stones
for my tomb,
while with willfull eyes
study my peers,
lips pursed tight
they have closed their hearts,
closed up tight
to my falling tears.
Yes,
it is I,
it is me, I cry,
feeling condemed
by the unspoken lie.
A lie to weigh heavy
on my bent back body.
Heavy as Christ's cross
responsible for all souls lost.
Then,
I stumble
and I fall
as I carry the burden upwards
to Golgotha of the skull.
If to think
is to act
then burning
after the crash,
the fire's glow
brings forth
the desire to let go.
Letting go,
why does it have
to be so
hard to come by.
leaving me so
hard done by.
A selfish act,
done not from class,
no more from strenght
than from a weakness.
An action out of chaos
in the absence of bliss.
The ShadowLand,
where grief clings
to my name
and to their person,
asking of today
to stride
with a limp,
and of yesterday,
to crawl and beg.
Forgiveness
would be
the task in hand.
A ticket for
some far
and distant shore.
Safe passage away
from ShadowLand.
Bent,
but not broken,
while the pain
of its death
runs deep.
Not until
hatred is spent
and words
of kindness
are spoken
will forgiveness
be complete.
Only one way to forgive,
that would be, completely.
Only one way to live,
that would be completely.
Anything less
misses the mark,
comes from the head
and not from the heart.
And so it remains
that for me to be free,
I stand at the threshold
of forgiveness
and stand ready
to turn the key.....
© 1999
All Rights Reserved
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 7:20 AM UTC
Fooling clouds cross my view
passing hurts and pleasures.
Blue on white on white on blue
'till black has broken through.
I dreamt that it
finally died last night,
that it was truely over.
Waves of guilt and fear
to carry me away
until I could see no longer
that place where I started from
and I no longer knew
that place I was headed to.
Now,
I gather stones
for my tomb,
while with willfull eyes
study my peers,
lips pursed tight
they have closed their hearts,
closed up tight
to my falling tears.
Yes,
it is I,
it is me, I cry,
feeling condemed
by the unspoken lie.
A lie to weigh heavy
on my bent back body.
Heavy as Christ's cross
responsible for all souls lost.
Then,
I stumble
and I fall
as I carry the burden upwards
to Golgotha of the skull.
If to think
is to act
then burning
after the crash,
the fire's glow
brings forth
the desire to let go.
Letting go,
why does it have
to be so
hard to come by.
leaving me so
hard done by.
A selfish act,
done not from class,
no more from strenght
than from a weakness.
An action out of chaos
in the absence of bliss.
The ShadowLand,
where grief clings
to my name
and to their person,
asking of today
to stride
with a limp,
and of yesterday,
to crawl and beg.
Forgiveness
would be
the task in hand.
A ticket for
some far
and distant shore.
Safe passage away
from ShadowLand.
Bent,
but not broken,
while the pain
of its death
runs deep.
Not until
hatred is spent
and words
of kindness
are spoken
will forgiveness
be complete.
Only one way to forgive,
that would be, completely.
Only one way to live,
that would be completely.
Anything less
misses the mark,
comes from the head
and not from the heart.
And so it remains
that for me to be free,
I stand at the threshold
of forgiveness
and stand ready
to turn the key.....
© 1999
All Rights Reserved
Request permission to use this poem