Thursday, July 7, 2011

empty, but not unfilled

broken teardrops on a page,
written in a broken hand.
dedication just to me,
lying open on a stand.

scared of what the letters say,
fearing failure of a dream.
silent cry stays in my throat,
all my heart can do is scream.

rushing past an empty life,
questions don't let me forget.
seeking answers that won't be found,
searching for meaning that's never met.

tired, weary eyes i blink,
look for solace in what you've said.
look away from this broken page,
upon your hand i lay my head.

my heart, it's sore, but it's unbroken,
you have kept it whole inside.
weight afflicted, but still not crushed,
you still hold the tears i've cried.

swollen banks of grace-full river,
flowing sweet neath sky pure blue.
resting in peace of all-unknowing,
kissed by first love's drops of dew.

holy of holies, our sacred sorrow, 
while we wait for our forever home.
weeping will last only the nighttime, 
till everlasting peace will come.

1 comment:

  1. I'm actually not depressed right now (at least not in the way the poem probably describes). so this poem isn't really about me at the moment. but i kind of have to write what i have to write, if you know what i mean (and you'll know what i mean probably only if you're a poet) and i can't tell you how good it felt to get this on the page. it's been a long time since i could really write any poetry, and it was so good to do it again.