Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Letting Go

Trapped in the quiet, stinking places

where loneliness breeds contempt.

Caught in the visceral sounds of aching

where none of this will end.

Words unspoken, barren, stricken,

a deftly well played hand.

Silence whispered, shoulders turned

a castle made of sand.

There is nothing here, to nourish

that starving aching scream.

No echo lingers, no song once sung

no things that I once dreamed.

I hunger, I bleed, I scratch at stones,

at doors, at keys all turned.

I cry, I long, I pace this floor

I pay homage to the pyre, burned.

There are broken remnants laid out in rows

on display like pieces of art.

I pick them up tenderly, touch them again

and dash them upon the rocks.

Their time has come, their time has gone

their lifespan a flicker in time.

The dust not yet settled, the rust not yet stained

these things are no longer mine.

The letting go, the giving in

the surrender of a raging war.

The casting off, the last shred of doubt

this isn’t mine anymore.

*I'm not generally a fan of rhyming
 but this was what wanted to be said...*


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