Above, to collected tears,
To smother your fears
With clouds as cushions,
Burrowing this glance for years.
I write pain with a pen,
For yours will be endless bathing
From the rocks where letters send
Voices to the stained whirlwinds.
You keep kissing trees,
Holding hope in clasped palms –
You keep hanging apples
While knowledge feeds your starvation –
Into glimmers you barely knew
Would open the sceneries around you.
Crest the waves that grew
To sinking proportions.
A teardrop for a graveyard’s weight,
A face that travels to sunlight,
Weary in the endless night.
As thorns blossom to your fright –
Winter keeps you comforted,
Autumn keeps you upon knees,
While Spring reveals your heartache
To its heat within summer.
What curtain will be drawn
To expose the birthing dawn?