abba hold my heart
Monday, February 8
heart to head its the perfect constellation you said
and we sail the waters questioning the wind
but we travel on , we fail to stop riding the tumultuous waves
and i grow weary of the fight, living in the center of the war
i bleed yet stand guard,
i am placid but it is a forgery
my eyes though they are my greatest foe
the betray the climate of my heart
weary my soul wanes,
and how long do my cries fall on deaf ears
and are they deaf or do they hear and absorb what i cannot say
and maybe your listening so intently
and maybe im speaking so loud
and screaming its hitting an octave higher
and im wailing heralding my mistreatment
but maybe your just whispering more then i can hear
i love you my child i have always loved you
i am here i am holding you
rest in me , dont you know your in my every thought that its you i put first
and my weeping is loud now , i cant hide the sound, the whimpering
and i am wounded, the tears crimson stain the floor, i face the corner ashamed of the emotion
hurt
pain
stretching
change
cold
shallow breaths and cold air
my throat constricts
like a boa thats caught the prey
and my throat is damned
i cannot speak
i whimper
sound escapes but not discern able
and in all this i think of another in all this i think of you
and i know i have it easy that their are others
that have so so much less
and i an American do not know true poverty
that i do not know true war
i do not know what its like to not have water... or to live days without a cardboard cut out of real food and i know it
but i still ache
and my tears they fall