My Tragedy: Catharsis In Poetry

Words, words that move and subdue, deaden my forever, never-ending pain and I write. Words of my ravaged life, reaching into the silence. I write it all in forms and patterns. Can words cleanse away death? In the stillness, I stand still . . . and my pain moves perpetually in the quiet. I like the strains of a violin that wash over me until only the sounds of the strings exist. Oh, what is the beginning and what will be the end, and the end and the beginning mingle and the words strain and stain . . . falling broken onto paper, drip, dripping but they do not perish or decay they are forever written they are full of shrieking voices of the beloved dead chattering in my soul . . . and I am always reliving each funeral dance the lamenting in the cemetery. The dead roses. The details of the dead, I write in patterns to vent, purge and free this tragedy that is my life. Love is non-ending . . . even death cannot destroy love it is timeless and beautiful, and in shafts of sunlight come my precious memories, that I hold to my heart . . . All my beloved are gone and found only in the dust of time, so now and always I seek respite in words of poetry- to soften, diminish and soothe my heart. Oh, beauty is momentary in this life- but heartbreak is immortal, and so I write . . . ___________________ May 15, 2017 Verse/My Tragedy: Catharsis In Poetry Copyright Protected, ID 004540 Written for the contest, Catharsis Sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron First Place