31 January 2012 - Scar Tissue - sonnet

I’ve avoided writing for this blog the past three days mainly because I didn’t want to fall into the catharsis writing gives.  And yet, here I am.  So, Erik left yesterday and all the feelings are being stirred; some good, some not so good.  The past two entries along with this one are products of melancholy and pity, so the writing is much too telly for my tastes.  Still, it is what it is because along with such brooding and moody thoughts, I still want to see the sun rise on hope.  Here’s praying it does.  Don’t mind the tenor of this last, it is something that had to happen and maybe I can get back to more introspective and illuminating patterns.

31 January 2012 - Scar Tissue - sonnet

I haven’t wanted anything to write,

but still I must retain my time and stall

the clutching fingers creased by folds of night;

I can’t explain just what that means at all,

though expectations still exist in droves.

It means that daylight hasn’t been my mold,

a heart that should be grounded, vents and roves

‘cause all I want I never seem to hold.

Another poem that mocks me as my skin,

another try at stemming pain and hurt;

it all comes down to paying for my sins

and hoping someday as it was reverts

to how it should be, promised by the Word;

it’s hell when life is lived like broken swords.

02-01-12

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