Torment and agony are the portion of the afflicted.
Behind the eyes is where it lives.
A smile can be deceiving, for even in the warmth
Of good company she is naked in cold winter winds.
Words sometimes cannot be used to express true feelings.
In whispered utter these are the only words she could muster:
If I may seem distant my love, know that it is not you.
When asked how she was, she said,
I’m fine, knowing it was not true.
Ideations of not being here cause her to rush to another room
To weep, wash her face and hide the tears.
Are friends really friends when the burden can’t be shared?
She is loving and considerate, and their feelings she would spare.
But it is when feelings are held in that the wounds are deeper,
And the tears, and the agony, and the wailing.
Even if heaven knows her cries, still, inside she dies …
Unknowingly they take of her, and take of her again.
In their euphoria the essence of her they freely spend.
Beneath the surface she craves light and healing;
In her breath, her preciousness, her torment, her pain
Her aspirations, and the agony of her life are so revealing.
With wondrous eyes she is beautiful and sparkling,
But Look past her countenance and deep into her soul to see her suffering.
Her childhood you would witness; the pain of abuse;
The hell of silent agony and constant misuse.
As I stare into her eyes she nods and greets me with a smile;
In knowing the essence of her, I embrace her, gently kiss her, and cry.
Tag: Anxiety
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You long oppressed; You anxious and stressed: You night walkers with glowing eyes; You precious children whose eyes have cried; You whom dwell within the corners of dark rooms misunderstood and in agony; You who have endured but hope for more; You who are listless and constantly contemplate death; You mothers who are postpartum depressed, who’s eyes cry and can’t sleep but are tired, looking into your baby’s eyes; You whom dwell on the ledge pondering the finality of a razor’s edge; You who sleep all day but wake up even more tired; You who are chronic insomniacs with eyes wired; You who seek resurrection with protruding veins and euphoric injection; The melancholic of you; You sufferers who daily drink of that bitter cup; You depressed fathers who can’t look into your children’s eyes without the shedding of tears; You who have prayed, and prayed again, with the sounds of wailing at 4 A.M. You who are reviled even by the ones who claim to love you, as they say hurtful words again and again; The distressed of you; The ones who ruminate in tormented state; You who live in hell; The poor of you who are ill but find a way still; You grandmothers who raise the children of your deceased daughters; You who are not of my flesh but are are still my brothers and sisters; You who have fought for years; You who are reading this with tears; I love you.
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From his soul he weeps.
Tears in the darkness are unseen,
But heaven hears his cries.
The wailing of white doves
Carry the song of his perpetual pain.
In eternal rain, the heaviness of his cross
Is saturated with water and dragged in mud;
The presentation of his torment
is the shedding of blood.
The earth shakes violently
From the souls trapped in misery.
Alone in desolation,
The darkness is his only witness.
It is when pain is concealed,
That the hideous scars of time
Cause horrid astonishment
When finally revealed.
The faces of the sorrowful
Upon the eyes are permanently
Seared and in the mind indelible.
In his stature he is majestic.
He dreams of reaching heaven’s gates
And riding on the wings of the angels.Antonio Vivaldi – Nisi Dominus
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If I am lost, find me;
If I am misguided, tell me;
If I stumble on my path, walk with me;
If I wallow in self doubt, encourage me;
If I am fearful, embolden me;
If I have been led astray, lead me;
If I have been dispossessed, restore me;
If I am in need, render to me;
If I cry uncontrollably, comfort me;
If I am misunderstood, lend an ear to me;
If I am depressed, uplift me;
If I suffer from anxiety, please understand me;
If I struggle with OCD, do not repudiate me;
If I battle PTSD, do not abandon me;
If I say I hate myself, tell me you love me;
If I show my vulnerability, don’t hurt me;
If I am near the edge, just talk to me;
If I am cold, wrap your arms around me;
If I lash out, please know it’s not the real me;
If I say I am sorry, please forgive me;
If you’re thinking about leaving,
Please don’t leave me. -
In unison they all removed their masks slowly
Free from the bonds of society;
En masse they took to the streets
With uncontrollable laughing, wailing and incessant screams,
Realizing uninhibited dreams to find their release;
With the hideous scars of long hidden suffering unveiled,
Pain was revealed in its rawest form;
Their faces streaming with tears, scarred and worn;
In the light, one by one they came forth, and they were beautiful.
They were so beautiful.
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If through pain strength is gained
And if through sorrow we transcend
Then I am a god. -
Life’s poignancy is steeped in stark reality.
To keep our sanity we shield our eyes from the underbelly.
When we cry alone, on pillows, tears are dried;
We sleep, we awake, and then again we cry.
Season after season in listless state we lie.
Born of our mother’s womb, but alone we die.
In a quest to find happiness it is hard we try;
A stranger’s face feigns happiness, but inside she dies.
On the day of that dawn, oh that beautiful dawn,
We no longer will sigh; we no longer will cry.
Until it arrives, yes until it arrives,
We await or salvation with tears in our eyes. -
At the crossroads where melancholia and sadness meet
The anguished drag heavy crosses on dark streets,
With hell’s heat beneath their feet. -
Thoughts flood in and intrude.
I must remain calm in the storm.
Torment rains down with stark reality;
I have dreamed of having peaceful dreams
But have only seen the underbelly.
Its rawness is hideous and scary.
Indeed in its presentation it is ugly.
My portion has been suffering
And I drink of that cup daily, unwillingly.
With a look of sincerity a solemn faced priest
Pulled me aside and told me:
Say 1 Our Father, 3 Hail Mary’s and 1 Glory Be.
I have sought heaven but for me are the gates open?
For long we have been suffering and hoping,
And hoping yet again.
Has the darkness become my bedfellow
And perpetual anguish my friend?
Lovers see my pain and tell me they love me,
But by the dawning of the morning light
They are gone ironically.
Understanding has only crossed my path in passing.
The spirit yearns for the substance of love
And something substantial and lasting.
About my life, I put pen to paper,
But where do I begin?
They accuse me of apostasy
And desire to tar and feather me;
Thoughts of their hypocrisy increase my anxiety.
In my lament, I remember my mother’s torment;
The nights of crying uncontrollably.
Was it somehow acquired or was it passed down to me?
In the scope of things does it matter at all?
Maybe the answers could be found in my genome
But it is in my own thoughts that I roam.
What is there to say of bitter winters
And the depressed drinking chamomile tea by the warmth of fires?
What is there to say of past loves of yesteryear who are no longer here?
The nothingness and silence of the darkness offers no solace. -
The tears that run in silent pain
Are dried and then they run again.
For long the flood of tears are held;
They suffer in a quiet hell.The dam it breaks when tears are filled.
The blood it runs when it breaks the will.
The darkness calls on winter nights;
Through darkened eyes they seek the light.The light is sought but still it’s dark.
If we should fall, tell the world we fought
A valiant fight with all our might;
Our flag in cold wind through the darkest night.
Intimate Compositions 