Cleansed
I watched the pen bleed the ink
held by my hand, speak my thoughts
of deep love, of sorrow, of joy,
of yesterday….like an unseen wound,
I allowed my pen to whisper secrets,
cry out loud feelings of beast or lamb.
Bottled up pain, this cage opened up,
as the Dove of Peace…. found flight….
The last thing I expected-
Copyright © F Kelling | Year Posted 2013
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