The Message
In the darkest hour of a day,
My lids seal tight my vision.
At once my myelin propagates
a subconscious decision.
I saw him there with her again,
this time I smiled and spoke.
He never uttered a response,
my greeting was revoked.
I sauntered over where they stood,
his teeth clenched and her eyes glared.
He hoped I would not speak a word,
and wished that I had cared.
I asked them if they knew where I
could find my love I'd gifted.
His head once bowed in breathless shame,
somehow became lifted.
He released her hand and handed me his,
I clutched it to my chest,
so he could feel the rhythm
in the hollow emptiness.
He said, "You granted me a chance
for your love to dwell in me.
I only hope that it remains
where you thought it safe to be."
In an instance, my unfilled void
overflowed with gratitude.
My broken heart and carnal thoughts
expeditiously subdued.
I realized, love is not mine,
to hold hostage in closed fists.
It was given to me to give freely,
just like HIS other gifts.
I thanked him well and placed his hand
back into her small palm.
I wished them well and walked away,
my eyes filled, but my soul calm.
In the brightest hour of the day,
my heart unleashed my vision.
My eyes saw in front of me,
my mind embraced my mission.
This dream which nestled deep,
in my slumber's resting bed,
is now a message I carry to you
"Love in ink and not in lead!"
Copyright © Devondra Banks | Year Posted 2012
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