Exile
The cold dark place where lost souls go
There is no comfort there but silence
There is no companion but solitude
You might hear a whisper there
or the echo of weeping.
You might sense that others are near
but cannot feel them.
You hold out your hand
to touch the tear
on a face that isn’t there.
You might call out a name
and wonder if anyone can hear.
In the quiet darkness I whisper...
Take my hand, I am with you.
Take my hand, I am with you.
cki May 29 2010
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5 comments:
Thanksgiving is a difficult time for me for several reasons. Most don't know it because I don't want to share my pain. This poem speaks volumes to how I've been feeling all week.
Hmm... most don't know anything about me because I never felt there was any necessity to share much of me, so at least this spoke to someone. Sharing it here was another one of those "should I, shouldn't I" moments.
hello Spockgirl~ thanks for visiting/ commenting on my blog. it's greatly appreciated. your poem is great. and the picture makes one remember that colder, dreary days are just ahead. hope all is well. have a great day.
Naq:
Thank you as well for popping over here. This poem might be one of the most blunt (can't think of any other word at the moment) I've written, and I never thought I would share it. Heck I never thought I'd share anything I'd written 'til this year.
Kristina:
Forgot to say, don't hesitate to email if you feel the need.
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