I bent my mind like a bamboo tree to experience the fragrance of her soul, and in return, I received a bouquet of flowers sprinkled with the earthly happiness of love. She opened her rosy heart for me to smell and share until the rain as soft as tears, wiped the imprints away forever. Even the splash of golden sunlight, trying daily to flood the void of my stolen heart, could not succeed, for the wound was larger than anything that could heal.

Petals fall and fade,
heart once bloomed socked in the rain,
wounded heart still ached.

It’s in my soul—
Like flesh pierced
By the glass-shaped pain
Sharp and raw.

Nobody knows how to help

I try to remove them,
the shattered memories
Each sharp shard
Lacerating my insides,
Tearing my spirit,
Pain echoing in flesh.

A ****** mess, I get more hurt.

Same old same,
Everything I touch,
stained—
with overflowing emotions,
Red, heavy, thick
Intense—  

It’s a deeper wound.
Larger than myself.
It keeps cutting.
It keeps tearing.
My Faith.

Finally the sun has come out from behind the clouds to dry my wet cheeks. A gentle breeze hums through the trees and the sound of a blackbird singing anchors me in the moment. My heart is grateful for this green buffer of solace amidst a world gone crazy. Whilst the angry mobs, baying for blood, stalk the streets of a crumbling power hungry paradigm, there are glimmers of light appearing on the horizon as many more souls gather in love to dance to the beat of a different drum.

Once again I feel myself dwelling on the margins, quietly retreating to the edges to join my witchy ancestors, watching and waiting for the storm to pass.

My bones hold the memories of the burning times as I sink into the quiet earth and the cool wind caressing my skin brings some relief. Walking on the razors edge of longing for connection and needing to lie low, to hunker down in the one place I can feel safe, alone.

Around me I see signs of the storm passing and new buds appearing with the promise of another flowering and harvest to come. In the warm evening light, that kisses the tips of the leaves, a gentle smile wraps itself around my heart and a glimmer of hope returns. ‘This too shall pass’, the wind whispers, ‘this to shall pass’…

You can't heal under a mask
Wounds need air
So do secrets
Both are hard to hide

The red rose he gave,
still inside my favorite book.
Frozen in time, just like me.
The marathons he runs inside my mind,
leaving me battered and bruised.
Bruises that I'll carry for an eternity, undefined.

i used to wince at the thought of him with another soul
now i convince myself, this is how its suppose to be
so that i don't loose control.

If only the time would do its trick. Like
how it turns tragedies into distant memories,
how it alters warm springs into icy autumns,
and how often it made empires rise and fall.
It can easily make blemishes fade.
Still, my wound remains unhealed.

Often I find it
Hard to tell if
I am suffocating,
Since the fetid scents
Of ghosts and ghouls
Are so intoxicating.

They wrap my head
Tenaciously.
I forget how to breathe.
My throat is tied,
My lungs, they writhe
As carbon starts to seethe.

I feel my blood
Howling in pain
As air around me boils.
Feel my heart thump,
Only to stop
And force my muscles’ coil.

The friction tears
Through beating skin,
My blurring senses wane.
My rotting mind
Induces haze
And thoughts are none but vain.

Losing focus,
Losing time,
Feeling the world just pass me by,
I feel that as
I fall from here
I’ve abandoned my design.

My pain’s replaced
With deafened peace,
A fraction of the abyss.
And lying there,
So restlessly
Leaves no room to reminisce.

I broke.

I once wanted one.
A dad.
A true father.
To his heart,
to his wife,
and his family.
What I got was another.

Swallowed by suffering,
his silence
suffocating a dream.
His?
Mine?

Lost and adrift
and slowly
buried
by his past.

Now father.
Dad.
I alone have to stand.
For my youth
long since passed.
Stand for my kids, my wife,
and yearning
for the heart, the Soul
of my Self.

For the boy who’s walked alone,
who still lives with me.
So that the pain can rise,
Can breach the surface
and let loose
the storm
for a sweet burial song.
  
All this
so he can once again
Remember
what love is.

A far away memory,
Whispering in my ear,
A quiet spirit,
Begging me to hear.

A fallen soldier,
In the midst of war,
Screams in cold agony,
And longs to be warm.

She is left there,
Dying all alone,
She cries in the silence,
And dreams of being home.

I walk along a path,
I hear her silent tears,
I run to her aid,
As her end draws near.

She looks up with her eyes,
I wipe tears from her face,
I bandage all her wounds,
She smiles as we embrace.

Some time seems to pass,
Her cuts not fully healed,
But she's doing so much better,
Than she was that fateful year.