Silent Pain, Screaming
Turbulence in my chamber,
Seething cauldron,
Standing amidst a crashing sea,
The waves beat vehemently.
Thoughts are running riot,
A howling storm is trying to pull apart,
Walking on a pathway fraught with briers and nettles,
Wading through troubled waters.
Above is calm and serene,
Below is dark and murky,
Saddled with uninvited guests,
My home is in a topsy-turvy state.
Dawn harbingers recalcitrant storms,
The day is a walk through a clouded path,
It’s a ceaseless tussle,
A worn and weary traveller.
It's a sea of unanswered questions,
It's a search into the sacred book,
It’s a dive into the unexplored unknown,
It’s a tenacious hold on to hope.
December 1, 2022.
Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Poetry Contest,
Edward Ibe.
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