this time at night
in the lost place
where I face
both peace and fear
the fine line
that seems to take
so much space
where I see
dreams erased
by loose threads
from torn ends
such a thin veil of darkness
suffocates
If I sleep will I wake?
For whose sake do I live?
Lonely tremors—
I turn aside.
Can I offer what I lack?
Where has imagination gone?
Maybe beauty has fled
to the love written on your hand.
If mercy be in your grasp
I pray you grab my heart
Kill me with your grip
but tarry holding
till the morning
when
before daybreak
break me
and squeeze blood from coal
in time, in rhythm
to sing—
come morning—
in three,
limber from fallen slumber.
in between
a poem by troy cady
No comments:
Post a Comment