Friday, February 21, 2014

Jonah Days

The black bell tolls the death knell
It rings in formless tones the fatal word
Of power and fear and helpless drowning
It gives me its ominous name "Overwhelmed".

The white page is vast with empty hope
Uncertainty of life and dreams that press pale
Like a giant whale about to swallow me whole
Though I am not yet running... to or fro.

But I want to run. To hide myself away alone, my fear
Of alone, to block out both the black and white
Not to risk the taming and giving of the wild things
Not to risk the tears and grief and failure.

They will come. They always do. I  know
I bleed red when cut by life's sharp shards
My legs buckle against my will and I fall
And on the way down I wait for the pain.

But then, there I am carpet-faced and crying,
and from there I can see, and seeing, I have hope.
The gong is not for me, the page is not a void.
I can see the palace, and I am not alone.

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