the dance of the ink riddled fingers

reassurance reacquainted

Posted in the poet-tree by enisea on 18/05/2011

So finally these many waves
Crashed upon my plastic caves
Tell me why they wouldn’t hold
These pressures are a little old
These broken shards of plastic shields
These obsolete and aging fears
These mechanisms of defense
Impersonal, fearful immense.

But wash me over salty waves
With songs and Psalms to make me brave
You whispered love, swiftly disarmed
Validating me without need of charm
Your concrete truth, I hold to tightly
Shared passions urge me, keep on fighting
I find in you my greatest peace
You bought my life for yours released.

Tell me what I would ever gain
If all I did was run from pain.

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