Torment

 
Harsh fire which blisters,
strips and sears,
blow-bubbled tears of pain,
to wrest the wrap, peel back
the layers, to show
from whence I came.

As memory screams, then
melts and drips, slow sighs
itself away, life dribbles
from an older face,
bright-painted yesterday.

And when the last, lost layer
is scorched and scraped,
reveals; the day pays
grave due homage,
the wind sighs words of praise.

The sun bends low with gracious
touch, to rest upon the brow,
and whispers what I know;
that only the sure hand of love,
can lead me on from now.

86

Advertisements

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
Aside | This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s