Dead Tired

19 October 2011

Dead Tired

 

Six days out of seven, I wish that I

would stay enshrouded in my tomb, deaf to

the voice that calls me back into the land

of the living once again, for I stink.

These layers hide my fleshly decay from

prying eyes, just as the stone protects me

from the wailing grief of those who still can

shed their tears for memory’s sake, a loss

embittered by blame. A miracle might

have saved me. Faith lies in resurrection,

not the distant future, but in I am,

in the knowing and being fully known

for no mystery remains – I died once,

ask me not to come forth and die again.

but lately the words

18 October 2011

but lately the words

 

But lately, the words don’t seem to say much,

a reflection of emptiness inside.

Should silence ever be allowed to speak?

Would I comprehend what it tried to say?

 

A reflection of emptiness inside,

I avoid the questions and the answers.

Would I comprehend what they tried to say,

even if I could face my mirrored soul?

 

I avoid the questions and the answers,

disassociating from all my fears,

even if I could face my mirrored soul

I dare not own either shadows or light.

 

Disassociating from all my fears

I’m left to wonder what I have to say.

I dare not own either shadows or light

yet if I’m caught between two worlds I must.

 

I’m left to wonder what I have to say

should silence ever be allowed to speak.

If I am caught between two worlds it must,

but lately the words don’t seem to say much.