Sunday, December 18, 2011

sonnet twenty four

i scar and i bruise and
i stop, and i begin again,
burned into passionate depths,
i strain, i string, i stumble

and my scream carries the
need to be needed by you,
sweetness, clarity, faith,
ever-present light hanging

from the clouds that race
and finds its repose in
your hands already battered

yet i remember, vaguely,
the soul that gave
much as it could - you.

No comments:

Post a Comment