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Ella Bennett Poem
Hidden
I am the wind whistling in your ears, chilling you to the bone,
I am the heart tearing you to pieces,
I am the path leading you home.
I am the mind that compels,
And the arms carrying you.
Hidden from prying eyes.
I am the voice, comforting the saddened,
And the anger that is conjured,
In our blackened soul.
Hidden.
The soul that’s tarnished by pain, hostility,
Envy, and greed.
Smeared with grease and coated with dust,
Rusting, somewhere, in our broken body.
Barren of love, hope, or mercy.
You are the soloist in the orchestra,
The lone flutist
Who can only be heard by the dead.
You are the legs that walk weightlessly on wintry ground,
And the wings that fly.
Hidden from those who seek.
We control.
Everything.
Unintentionally.
With purpose.
We are the lungs that breathe life,
Into all existence,
And yet,
We are dead.
Our minds are full to bursting,
But our hearts,
Are more empty than a dish,
Scraped bare by the starved.
They are the songs that drive us to do better,
And the cement that holds us here.
Unable to escape.
Free to leave.
They are the light that beckons,
And the dark that pushes you away.
They are the nurturers that let us keep our roots,
And the breeze that sails us forth,
Into our own sunset.
Intended for mercy and freedom,
Only invoking fear.
I am the confusion that comes with breaking away,
I am the love of change.
I am the ever present hatred,
And the love that was always there.
Hidden.
I am death,
And the crippling grief it brings.
And life,
In all it’s splendour.
I am the last, wheezing breath of a dying man,
I am the piercing cry of a newborn.
I am the despair that uplifts,
And the hope
That kills.
I am a giver,
I am honest,
I am selfless,
Victim to paradoxes.
I am the powerful will that heals,
The horror that divides.
The reality that shatters every fantasy,
The fantasy that shuts out reality.
Hidden from all.
The fable, weaved through
The tapestry of life.
Colours wavering,
Patterns ongulating.
Alluring poor,
And ensnaring rich,
With the life,
Pulsing within.
I am you,
And you are me.
We are one...
We are the ever present love,
And the hate that was always there.
Hidden.
Copyright © Ella Bennett | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Ella Bennett Poem
Who am I?
A peddler, a giver, a labourer, a thief?
A monster, a maniac, a secret, a spy?
A friend, a fighter, someone barren of belief?
A realist, a hater, a forsaken doomed to die?
A dreamer, a tryer, a tyrant, a fable?
A helper, destined to aid,
Those that aren't able?
A human, an animal, an assassin, a maid?
No one knows.
Who am I?
You'll find me in every dark corner,
And lurking in your dreams.
You'll see me in the shadows,
As they dance mysteriously.
You'll feel me in the dead of night,
As cold fingers creep,
Up your neck and to your head,
When you're fast asleep.
You'll see my reflection,
In your mother's eyes.
And always after rejection,
And during hateful times.
You'll hear me in the words,
That are spoken with a silver tongue
And in the lies that are
Uttered by no one.
You'll smell me in the stench,
Of burnt and rotted flesh.
And in the scent of crop,
That long since fresh.
You'll taste me in the blood,
That pools on your forehead.
And in the greasy mud,
That sprays your lips as you tread,
Through desolate land,
With nothing but hope in your hand.
Who Am I?
I am Feared,
But nothing else.
Others defined me,
But there is no guarantee,
That you're not the next I'm going to see.
Keep looking over your shoulder.
Watch where you step.
Trust no one.
For I am everywhere,
And there's no way to be rid of me,
Because Fear is eternal.
And Everywhere.
Copyright © Ella Bennett | Year Posted 2017
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