I can feel the sting of her tears squeezed from the darkness of her bruised eyes,
the rhythm of her pain, riding the wave of her anguished breath, on a broken gasp.
I can feel the ebb of her spirit crying out in despair,
torn by the heaving convulsions which tremble her soul.
I can taste the heart ache she bears like a storm of thunder,
bitterness exploding like lightning bolts of suffering within the consciousness of her mind...
The storm of her passions a roiling cloud of storm-shot grief,
a roaring pressure of vertiginous sickness, throbbing against the ear.
Her cry of pain savagely intense,
a whirlpool of violence tearing at the very fabric of the night.
Sucked asunder by the eclipsing angst of bitterness,
a ship swamped by mountainous waves of despair…
~~ ~~ ~~
So I stand tall, tall as the mast of a ship reaching up towards the heavens,
and let my regard give answer to her torment.
My flesh the sail filling with the wind of her grief; of her woe,
like the keel of a boat I center myself about the flow of her pain,
weathering the shoals of her distress,
picking through the labyrinth of her doubts and fears,
to touch, and hold with tenderness the heart of her soul.
The covered awning of my spirit keeping the rain of ashes,
of loss, from investing her essence with the suppurating darkness of despair.
So as the mountains endure the scouring lash of the wind,
and the shore endures the eroding touch of the sea,
so too do I stand tall and endure the elemental rage of her fury,
in silence born; with arms opened wide I offer the shelter of my heart,
kiss the tears from her eyes as I cradle her head to my chest,
giving comfort with each beat of my heart as she curls within the safe haven of my embrace...
Richard ‘Poetikz’ Burton
June 13/2011
