I succumb to ends of days
To ends of nights
Where the wind lays low
Where the bough bends, not breaks
I relinquish ill-fitting garments
That sinch my waist and
Smother me with stiff, forgotten lamb’s wool
Where denim, devoid of elasticity binds
I witness the belief of disbelief where
A fool’s handshake, his
Tight sweaty grasp
Squeezing my cold, limp
Apathetic hand
I suffer at the dire reach of poverty
The stricken, the voiceless
The heartache of lowly demise
In a state where trees and stars serve as meager shelters
It is the certainty of tenderness I crave
Blowing darkness to the foreboding wind
That soothes a blistered soul
I welcome togetherness
That fills the inherent void we mask
Sufficing nothing
Embracing all
I rejoice in existence
Abundance that fills all spaces
Far reaching and plenty
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Author:
Katie B. (
Offline) - Published: May 22nd, 2026 05:54
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS
Offline)
Comments3
A lovely write where the last two stanzas hit particularly hard and were my favorites. Well written Katie
The lead up crested to a summit of stirring abundance 🕊️🙏
For me this is a soul questioning choices from outfits to tenderness and companionship.There is a touch of resignation here but it ends with welcoming and rejoicing.An enjoyable read
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