CRAFTING ANNE
In the wake, in the rubble,
I search for who I am.
After pain’s trouble,
how well can I stand?
I’ve long sat in debris
with no clue for company.
Please, hope, talk to me
so faith might walk with me.
I need out of my head,
away from all not said.
Tired of my feelings,
I search for their ceiling,
but I only bleed ~
nothing ceases my bleed.
In the wake, in the rubble,
I search for a new face.
After so much waste
how should I craft her ???
There’s need to shape
my chipped remains
into designs aligned
to best serve my
remaining lifetime.
Shall I mold pain into wisdom,
focus my eyes truth aware
or
keep this scorched heart form
with eyes colored forlorn?
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