from my heart

I swim fire with you

into the foul grey shiver of night.

 

We’ve been beaten into shards

by this non-stop, pounding fear.

But, there’re fancily dressed

demons gathering those shards

to turn them into fine powder.

 

Even beneath the cruel cowl

of this relentless illness,

your tears sing a symphony

of tireless Hope.

 

I wish I could attend

my own funeral,

so I could cheer you across

that cold black finish line.

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

Excellent write.

[Emily B]

hey, now, no funerals, not for a long, long time

promise

[Nobody.]

nah....
wrote this one when m'lady and I were at the damn cancer hospital waiting for results of my last tests. I was mildly shaken. I'm still fighting like a Comanche.... I promise. My darkest poems are not confessions of my sins. They are exorcisms of my doubts and fears.

;)

[Emily B]

i understand

[Emily B]

i wrote some pretty dark stouff this winter, it was honest though

[Nobody.]

I shall read it. darkness is my natural habitat.