Short Suffrance Poems

Winter's cast its magic spell.
Rain is streaming down the hills,
tracing sorrows to dispel.

Wind is whistling in indifference:
sparkling, surging, going in circles,
redeeming the world from all its suffrance.

Clouds are crashing, 
their swords clashing.
Zealous, now, the sky is flashing.

Mist is making a dance with beams;
The world is lost in a hazy dream....

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Ramshackled heart,
rusted chains of indifference,
scars the arms with jagged cuts,
lines encased in deep throated laughs,
gagging on the insolent indifference.

Walk that mile in shoes of lead,
weighted down with suffrance,
magnetized with fetid truths,
masks of righteous lies,
and truths that barely scrap the earth.

When eyes are opened,
the ones sewn shut,
and the brightness blinds for moments,
the stinging breath of something known,
this life is just the dream....

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