Oh, hear this woebegone girls prayer,
words that in silence weep;
to drift among the stones and air
in a place green and deep.
I wander mournful and forlorn,
within a cloak of grief;
yes, am scarred by death's cruel thorn,
that creeps like a dark thief.
I believe- I can let gloom go,
oh, yes I have the strength;
although dark stained with death's woe,
I will journey any length.
On stones engraved are beloved names,
I will write this despair;
that my poetic muse now claims,
on white- then, in a prayer.
I believe- I can cut this thread,
to find my tranquility;
on gossamer wings I leave the dead,
and all vulnerability . . .
but, will I ever be free of their voices . . .
July 24, 2019
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1168-465-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Choose Your Own Title, Vol. 7, Songs
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Inspiration, #3- I Believe, Era
Copyright © Dear Heart- Wiishkobe Ode | Year Posted 2019