Bring Hope To Dire

 

What if I told you I'm sorry?

What if I told you I failed?

What if I told you I'm heartsick,

for my heart’s in a jail,


a jail that is my body,

a jail that is

my torn-off wings,

a jail that makes me

sometimes naughty

for only that kind is

what it brings


But this won't serve me well.

It's not a place to dwell.

It's really a private hell,

in spite of the pride that swells…


When the pain pills

come to 

over-reliant use

and the glib, flippant thrills

come only from

that abuse,

it's just the easier, softer way,

and it will never pay

anyone, anything, anyhow

accept a coroner

taking a vow


...and so...

the time

is never now!


I don't need a priest

to say, “Thy will be done.”

I'm looking for

my kingdom come 

in the dark, without sun.


In this dark, the only light

is the fire that ignites,

and it burns on my skin

like 1,000 pushpins,

and it grows from the wind

of the shame for the “sin.” 


Yes, they did light a match.

Then they poured down the gin,

and it melted my candle wax

when I let them in, to win.


But please, fire, go dim

Rain on me like a hymn!

Be an ember at best

before you take all the rest

of what's left of me…

of the last standing tree.


Dark tree, dark tree,

I heard you whisper,

heard you whisper

in the glow,

heard you whisper

in the know.

But do I listen?

Oh, no…


Well, this time I need to listen,

and I need the moon to glisten

over the cold, misty lake.

Without its light, it could be fate

like off the pier and too late,

‘cause I can't swim with ice

and I can't keep

rolling the dice

on the gameboard of strife

that is playing with my life…


So

what if I told you I'm sorry

for playing the foreboding game,

for curling up under the blanket

amid the storm and the rain

when it's one that's known to suffocate

while laughing at what it's slain?


And what if I reach - to rip it off!

Then what if I walk through the storm?

Would it be enough to redeem the forlorn?

would it be enough to be saved and reborn?


Can I be strong enough to stave

off the comfort that I crave

and walk on through pain, brave?

- Then again, I need more than brave…

I can't see when I'm covered.

I can't walk through to the other side.

I can't share, but I hide,

remain taken on

a bad trip ride.


Muffled are the voices

that chant the right choices.

If I can't walk through the rain

then I'll perish in vain


and remember how the rain

was called to put out the fire,

to bring growth

in place of desire

and so then

bring hope to dire.


2021


Enjoy reading Purple Ashes In the Sky on Blogger and consider

supporting the book via purchase or donating to my Go Fund Me

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