This is from a blog post I wrote in 2006, I believe.
Inked
Darkly incandescent,
in your fits of rage,
burning your blackened words
upon the pristine page.
Beliefs alight on leafs of white,
but speak of ill intent;
when those who set your wayward ways
dismissed your clear dissent.
If pen were sword and God were love
the past would be impaled,
inkstains streaking blood red lines
where innocence was failed.
The pain would
drip
from poisoned words,
to deal deserved death,
and finding freedom in the purge,
you'd catch your baby's breath.
in your fits of rage,
burning your blackened words
upon the pristine page.
Beliefs alight on leafs of white,
but speak of ill intent;
when those who set your wayward ways
dismissed your clear dissent.
If pen were sword and God were love
the past would be impaled,
inkstains streaking blood red lines
where innocence was failed.
The pain would
drip
from poisoned words,
to deal deserved death,
and finding freedom in the purge,
you'd catch your baby's breath.
we all have our pasts to
deal with, some of them inflicted with such venom upon us that we don't know
how to overcome the infection in ourselves. this poem is my wish that her pain
could be written away. sadly, it cannot. they say time heals all wounds, but i
think it's safe to say that that is not true either. but love and understanding
can make a difference. it may not right the wrongs, or bring the sick back to
full health, but it can at least show that there is good in the world, and that
you - kate - are worthy of love, despite what others have hurt you into
believing. this poem was written with a wish, and with love.
No comments:
Post a Comment