Silence Has A Sound

eyes

These eyes,
they hide
a wall of tears
though it does nothing to quell the flame,
they hide behind
a wall of fears
that echoes the sound of your name.

This heart,
its roads,
its inlets and tributaries
that venture to you
and from you
are stained red from the wine you spilled
though it had no color.

These hands, these arms
as they hold and surround you
though they mean to provide you peaceful solace
they only seem to confound you.

This silence –
this silence though it may be golden
it is not always consent;
mere empty promises that keep me beholden
to words, like a coil that is wound
and wound,
betraying a silence that does indeed
have a sound.

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Kintsukuroi

 

gold

From the cracks of a broken heart,
incredible luminescence can emerge
and light your way ~

Yet you keep your eyes closed
and focus on the darkness behind you

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” ~  Rumi

Open your eyes
Let the light enter through the wound

And from within you,
let it brilliantly shine through
Let it blind you with its intensity
Let it burn and seal the wounds
with its golden effulgence

And a new you shall emerge
more beautiful
more resilient
more divine

Become kintsukuroi
~

bowl

A writer writes..

unnamed

a writer writes,
to ameliorate the pain
be it holy or profane
be it balanced or insane
with affection or disdain

Every word written wipes away a tear
every line, refuge from fear

a sort of self medication
a self reparation
a hopeful initiation
from a hopeless situation

every couplet,
a bleeding wound healed
every stanza,
a memory sealed

a writer writes,
to begin again
to leave behind the pain
a release from a binding chain
and that familiar refrain

in vain..

and so the writer writes..
Again..
    and Again..