Monday, November 16, 2009


Painted hands typing tapping.
Why do I let the door drift open
to phone calls with pain at the end?
I know that a fleeting smile
will quickly be erased by the lonely ache of yesterday.
Yesterday's yesterday becomes golden
gilded in empty words
and empty arms.

The haunting music
touches my inner voice
where my soul cries at injustices of the world.
Why? why
"Why not", is a voice that pokes me into tomorrow
Tomorrow holds promises not yet told.
I can see smiles and laughter
My penance for the tears I offered up
A pain I cradle in my heart
a soft pain now
a forever pain that I gladly hold up for eyes to see.
So many tears
"See, look I survived! Strength."
That is not how it happened, but you don't need to know.

Gods hands hold a healing heart.


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