The shadows
lengthened
Sky turned pale;
I looked on
There was
charm even on a sinking face
Lynched by
cancer- a life pledged, to be more aware
More tolerant,
and more responsible, more loving
Awake with
unsuspected powers; or
May be
with the visions of terminal horrors
Lovely as a
flower… she was withering
The smell of
medicines gave me chronic insomnia
All I could do
was write poetry all night
The muscles of
the mind picked up power
Soaking emotional excesses...
Poems of the
long road, unsteady nights
Healed the weight of the restless hours...
I’m happy that I've taken a stab at writing poetry. I write
poems to heal myself. The above poem has reference to my personal experience with
my mother-in-law, when she was admitted in a hospital in her last days. Writing
really helped me get through the hard time.
Kim, that was indeed a wonderfully therapeutic prompt....
Written for http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.ca/2013/05/verse-first-poetry-heals.html// Poetry Heals..
