Acceptance

A welcome gaze, the sun shines ever present Peering through thin overcast curtains With the lightest of light’s gentle touch The paint brush of the effervescent Yuletide glides through the spectral air It caresses the cadaver walking the path Unaware of the beauty that surrounds Gentle winds dancing with wispy hair I was unfamiliar of this The stinging of tears born from rage Manifesting apparitions of our past so pleasant The infanticide of a future yet to stumble into stride I admit my adamant refusal to accept the present Where murders migrate above me, Where my spirit drifts in the atmosphere This time, the clock has stuck like a gavel The haunt of her hands on my wrists the most pleasant of shackles. Will there ever be a moment where I accept change? When will I simply accept this weather For what it is? Sharp, stark, and serene When will I finally say, “This is where I need to be.”