Jessica Zorn Poet Blank verse

Smoke Signals

The second hand smoke
Of a relentless pursuit of peace.
Projects the burned out forest 
Of my soul. My tired trembling hands
That I return to my pockets
Because of the blood stains under my 
Finger nails. Never finding anything remotely 
Close to home, I am a careless visitor in my own skin.Black sheep,the shame swept under the rug.the claustrophobic  cataclysm that nobody talks about.The dirty secret hidden in a box lock away 
In shadows.Shame I have always carried to the name that never was mine to begin with.
Systematically hell bent on finding something worth what fight I have left.This battered  broken glass  heart of mine, the glue oozing 
From the cracks is the metaphor of my whole life.
  ~JAZ~

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Millard Lowe January 8, 2022 at 9:05 AM Loved this metaphoric pen and its rhythmic flow from beginning to end, and the great allegorical revelation. Continue to pen on towards becoming the "fire" rather than 2nd smoke; towards an "unbreakable-heart of faith. Thanks for the share. Peace and Love.