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Survivor's Guilt
| Open Poetry #48 |
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Survivor's Guilt |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California 
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Survivor's Guilt The words, they come much slower now... I'm not sure what to say. Confidence lost— the why— the how, Given to yesterday. I hear the drum and I march on, Destination unclear; Yet pay the cost in hopes withdrawn To Passion's uncried tear. The dreams, so few and far between, Have lost their clarity; (That truth beneath all things unseen No longer calling me). Every askew inkling of trust Bordering on dismay, I so bequeath my soul to dust, And body to decay. If there were time, I'd fix it all, Or at least would swear to; But, truth be known, I'll barely crawl The rest of my life through. Archaic rhyme, the only friend Not abandoning me; But seeds unsewn, the graves I'll tend For all eternity. Yesterday becomes yesteryear— Tomorrow, yesterday; (A mind will hold faces so clear To voices gone astray). The fallacy, etched deep in stone, Keeps the memory pure; Through storms so cold I pass alone, But never quite endure. Michael Anderson 12/07/13 |
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| © Copyright 2013 Michael Anderson - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Gale Senior Member
since 2013-06-10
Posts 578Russia |
An impressive writing, Michael! "Yesterday becomes yesteryear" Indeed... |
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas |
"If there was time, I'd fix it all...". Don't we just constantly wish, my friend. This is typical you, in all its wonderful misery. Well done...enjoyed. j. |
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