Another poetry project, this time centred around death and grief. I have written this solely as an exercise in trying to use imagery to tell the story. I hope it works.
The soft wind brushes against a bristled chin
And in his heart he holds a candle
She is dead, he can hear it in the bells that toll
Yet she walks with him for all to see
But him, he is blind and grief has tethered
Itself to his soul. Wrapped its icy fingers
Around his neck; causing his lungs to fight for
“I can hear.” He cries inside, and no-one can hear
Him, for his eyes are strewn with tears, and in those
Tired ducts a pool forms that takes us away to
A majestic lagoon where she sits, in deepest
Thought, wondering if he will ever return to her.
Yet those tears do not form the heart of the lagoon
It is hers, as she sits waiting patiently. Wanting his
Arms to wrap themselves around her again. In his
Eyes he does not see this, in his eyes there is
Nothing but fear and pain, and his lagoon
Is black as night; inky waters stain the landscape.
“I wish you could hear me.” She says.
“I wish I could hear you.” He wails in his sleep.
And his nights are tormented by demons of his past
The structure of his life now bent and withered
Like an old iron gate which no longer opens.
The soft wind brushes his bristled chin
And his tears fall like a waterfall.
Next week I shall do a video blog, hopefully you will all enjoy me reading some more poetry and I shall take a pick of some of my favourites.