Friday, December 16, 2016

Tale of Compassion

Suicide –

Homicidal isolation,

That wears the branches of the heart.

Ixtab keeps tabs,

On the chambers of the dark.

An idea, a knot

When the world shuts on the breath.

Drags you into seas,

Promising more: Sleep –

Hibernation –

It said they would weep no more.

Yaxche Tree.

Or Aokigahara,

The places where suicide freeze –

Peering out,

From the cusp of a funnel,

That trickles into dark waters.

Breath clasped on scars,

A wheeze, a cry.

Now, here is the rest.

A green door,

An ancient promise.

If possible,

I hope these words funnel through.

This pallet is for you.

This love is for you,

These words are for you.

If you can’t find them,

We’ll bring them to you.

Make our own legends.

Write our own myths.

The branches of my heart reach out.

Spreading love to all.

                                                                                                 Tale of Compassion by Christian Gould