Spring Healing
A wound trying to heal.
I pick at grief,
like a child digs at a scab.
I'm leaving a dark dance
that winds into a night
that never ends.
A dance where pain circles,
and weaves it's seeds
into a hilly landscape,
that lives behind my eyes.
Memories of tangled beauty
like silken grass
knot in the breath of the wind.
I pull and I push.
Like Chinese handcuffs,
I won't let go.
Dusk lights a path
that beckons me to follow
to a darkness so deep
I know it would blind me.
Lost, I listen for dawn.
A bath of morning light
so lovely, so caring
washes over me.
Shines while I trace
the path of where I've danced.
A trail of fading steps,
pale bruises imprinted lightly
on the tender earth.
In the wind I now hear music.
It's a beautiful song I hum
while I watch a scar grow fainter.
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