This poem I wrote in 2011 as a reflection of the conflict situation in our household at the time; which weighed me down in the emo kind of way and drove me a little insane, to be honest. I have since delightfully known a different truth to family, but I thought I’d share none the less.

In the line of fire I stand
Blood in a drought filled land
The flesh wound smell
My nostrils are filled
Deaths desperate attempt
The air is chilled.

I reach out to free…
But then the blood is on me.

I can’t stop the gushing red
Shrieking pain, poisoned head
Grasping for a breath of faith
The air is thin, I cry out instead.

A cry of anger
Beyond wounded souls
Interrupted territory
Hot words,
Burning coals.

Twisted cry
Mortality advert
Twisted truth
Woven with hurt.

Reconciliation I call
A gut filled plea
Groping dust.
Face down.
I cry out.


Leave a Reply

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

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

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )


Connecting to %s