Pride Stalls
In the hours of twilight
Where hazy clouds and earth mix
Before the noise of life fills the quiet,
I recall half-filled moments
Upon fields of spite and an angry wind;
Unmoved by repeated hushes
Denying the plea of atonement
Where pride stalls to cross over the light
And bow for life's misgivings.
Feeling how this wound scrapes my dreams,
A scent of silence lingers within
Like the tender hints of Genesis
Circling around my blood unbidden...
And I count myself as one of the many
Who stands on the ridge of blind conceit.
Yet, a voice from my inner child rings
As my errant wiles hide from fear of rejection...
That through some willing desire
I begin to wrap my hands---forgive;
Releasing the power of serenity.
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SKAT's Any Old Poem #6
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2014
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