Though she be but little, she is fierce – William Shakespeare
I am so exhausted, longing now for rest
This pain behind my eyes is a marching drum
Dragging me towards the blankets of my bed
Where now my body begs me to lay my head
To close my eyes, to sleep forever to succumb
Yes, I am so bone-tired, stripped of every joy
Life feels worn and pointless, like a rusted toy.
With aching muscles, a smile I give
But it is dusty and strained from lack of use
More often with frowns, my face I abuse
I can see you’ve been crying,
So come over here, let me hug you.
You’ve had a rough week,
Perhaps a rough month
Or maybe you’re whole life is pain.
Let me hug you and ask you a question or two.
That on my mind have been weighing.
What are sisters and why love them, you wonder.
Well, I’ll explain as best I can, as I have quite a number.
According to science a sister is a female
With the same parents as another individual.
But that definitions a shame, really it completely fails
To show you what a sister truly is, she’s a miracle.
My sisters, well yes my bloodkin, are so much more
They’re the support beams holding me high enough to see light
They’re the candles that burn through my darkest night
And I love them.
Continue reading “What Sisters Do”Surrounded by this dark shroud
Created in my mind
Living in a dark cloud
Search but never find
I am what you might call an overthinker
I spend my nights awake, staring at the ceiling
Tracing thoughts on the walls, letting my fingers linger
Over the memories the pale purple paint is concealing
Till the world is faded to deepest black
And sleep overpowers my brain at long last
Sitting in an open field
Upon a checkered mat
My knees drawn up against my chest
And flowers on my hat
I think upon my dearest cousin
Her birthday draweth near
Bringing a smile to my face
And to my heart good cheer
by Zahur
Ra-ta-ta-tah! Rain on the pavement, rain in the street
Falling in sheets across the grey brick city, autumn’s tears
Gently waters the dying fields of gold-brown wheat
And washes away the scars and toils of the passing years
Bringing the taste of musting life and soft earth sweet
Dance! Dance! Cold bruised feet across wet concrete
In the falling rain, with the tears so cold
Cool to the skin and nourishing to the soul
Wash away the heartache, sooth the stinging feet
In the dusking evening autumn does control
by Zahur
Trodding, plodding, every step a fight against survival
Every step a searing pain, betrayed by mother earth
Every blow against the back, and unrelenting trial
The unrelenting fight to take her very worth
To strip her to her bones, to take her dearest smile
Her humanity, it wavers, she gives a little cry
To the ground she tumbles, to lay there, and to die
The whip it is relentless, mercy here a foreign word
Shall she give up now? Her screams, are they unheard?
The only currently found fragment of Zahur’s poem in tribute Lady Wisdom.
Continue reading “to lady wisdom”