We journey on as strangers
In a strange land;
Seems like yesterday, when we
Skipped together hand in hand.
The ghost of your strict fingers
Clutches mine in an icy grip;
Its numbing cold, a heavy reminder
Of the tears that did slip.
Each drop, a lead cascade
Pounding me to the cold ground;
Your broken heart, shattered mine
And silenced every sound.
And though we have spanned, hand in hand
Many-a-lands unholy;
My foot caught on these treacherous sands
The wind singing me folly.
This land, where every oasis is a trick
And every truth, a lie;
Jagged with rocks of betrayal and rampant darkness
Looking for lost souls to dine.
Silence pervades the space between us
Each little delight it swallows;
Stirs each broken promise, each unspoken regret
Shackles of guilt dragging to the gallows.
This land, where each word is a prayer
Each approach a dare;
And each step a labour, each help a favour
And banishment, should I waver.
The raging flames of my impetuous rebellion
Choked in their own smoke;
The wave of buried anguish within
Into ripples broke.
Through solemn moments and twisted fate
Time beckons with an outstretched hand;
I would take it if I could and go back
To when we skipped together, hand in hand.
YOU ARE READING
Introspection
PoetryThis is my collection of poems. They are like diary entries of my teenage years and signify my growth. I have been writing them for a while. Hope you enjoy it.
