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My life is weather-stained with years,
my world a garden ravaged . . . 
Since a child I have been collecting scars,
s c a r s  that will never heal;
and storms shake the ocean of my sleep,
the waves of time keep rolling over me endlessly.
Oh, scars are the  p a t h  to the soul,
and my  S O U L  is a labyrinth;
of jagged, sharp pieces,
and my  d r e a m s  are flowers that have died.
My scars a long chain of heavy lead,
Yet, I drink from the deep blue sky each day;
but the rare herb, happiness, hides away from me,
my heart a window open but a door firmly closed.
Oh, will  L O V E  come to me unbidden?
Will a lover fight for me? 
I dwell amid the dregs of past sorrows,
that hang from  d r i p p i n g  branches in the grey;
woods of my mind. . . 
Will he follow the road where scars are the path to the soul?
Will he battle the demons in my   S O U L ?
Yes, my life is weather-stained with years,
and my world a garden ravaged;
yet, my  h e a r t   is open wide . . .  

_______________________________
September 7, 2018


Poetry/Free Verse/Scars Are The Path To The Soul
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1058-874-01
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym. 


Written for the contest - Verses of Metaphors
Sponsor, Laura Loo (Theme chosen - #5 Scars are the path to the soul)

First Place

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