a slightly long sigh

The dull throb of listlessness
Waiting on the hurt of the next burning hot drop
To thump into the numb scalp
And then the open eyes see
the epicenter of the deep darkness
of the pitch dark gloom
The promises of light still beckon
‘but it is beyond this threshold’, she whispered.

My knees hurt from the running away

The pain is intense ever so often
From psychedelic full HD nightmares
As real as Maya and her sad laugh

Oh yes, those pinstripes of enabling light
In the darkness of the thick old blanket

The light comes in from the frayed edges
Of patches stitched over old tears of
Half fought battles
Of tough times and stumbling steps

Light that forced itself on my bleakness
That hope, wakes me up in cold sweat

There is solace still at the Rock
My parents set me up on in my far off youth
None at all at the sanctuary where the selfish greedy priest sits
He turned the water that make you thirst never more
Into an abyss of toxic waste
‘You all are to blame, you tragic losers’, his taunts echo.

My sighing and heaving bends the old rod I lean on
Still sturdy though, form the soaking of tears of my mother
The sweat that dropped on it from my father’s brow
when he smiled his bitter sweet
the strains of old hymns
the intermittent outpouring of love
the reluctant obedience of a daughter
the resplendent sunrise and sunset I sometimes see over the city smog
the selfless giving of friends…

I stopped at these water stations via dolorosa
Seeking my salvation

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