PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I know the feeling of reliving a
nightmare every waking moment

And to scratch, at a surface that
is so thick and barbed with wire.
I know what you know.

When you wrote, I could not tell you that
I had been sitting out here for a day and a half
I was watching migrations of birds,
racing to the south
beating out the winter's fist

I have lost the foundation to my great house
Ive returned to the forest,
where there is no feeding light,
only the muck of a swamp land heart

I cannot fight this war
or rage
or this course of nature.