|
Angst |
|
I have some spiritual wounds
that hide |
|
Deep in the sanctum where my
spirit resides, |
|
Suppurating, poisonous,
distressing my soul, |
|
Stealing away warmth,
radiating glacial cold. |
|
An enervating gloom has
invaded my core; |
|
It corrupts the essences of
who I was before |
|
Life’s pendulum swung too
far into the Dark, |
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And clouded the pleasure,
the loving, the spark |
|
That made life a beckoning
adventure to explore. |
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It’s left me locked behind a
spectral door |
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That blocks and frustrates
me nearly every day, |
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Keeps me captive to emotions
I can’t hold at bay. |
|
And, yes, I know no one else
can really see |
|
The debilitating damage
festering inside of me; |
|
They can’t see, and I can’t
adequately explain, |
|
These ageless wounds that
cause so much pain. |
|
If only someday…somehow…I
could find |
|
A panacea to heal this
trauma to my mind… |
|
© Thurman P. Woodfork
6/3/2010 |
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
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