Bound

 

 

 

 

Tattered and in pieces, shackled invisibly

Howling gales, surrounding me frenzied

Lashing my torn spirit, whispering as I search

Lost, darkness immediate dragging my core

Crying out, find me here on this shore

 

Red skies, angrily brighten the horizon

Breezes calm in dawns face, muting the fury

Showers fall, washing the previous night’s wounds

Chains fall away as a pathway opens ahead

Whispers beckon, barely heard over wind-chimes

 

Soaring, shearing edges from diaphanous clouds

Leaving trails, breadcrumbs to follow as I search

For rest, for peace, for a place to land quietly

Battered, betrayed with redemption beyond reach

Gossamer robes flow around me, burning my skin   

Each touch scorching reminders of pairings

 

Night falls again, nightmares beckon once more

Perhaps tonight will be different

My bond slips as you become more distant

Once my king now my black prince

Still, I miss your skin, in my dreams

My bound memories, reminders of a reverie

 

5-January-2020

Comments

  1. “Perhaps tonight will be different.” There is always hope, I hope. This could very well be a goodbye kiss, a momma sending her young and only son to war, the grief suffered at the physical loss of a loved one. Poetry gives us so many ways to enter a conversation regardless of the specific situation. Poetry opens broader conversations. Thanks for sharing.

    • It is only my musing. Some stay in my journal, some make it here. Not to many these days. But one of my promises to self, write more.

      Nice to see you.

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