what to do with the words unsaid, the door unopened, the heart unseen.
what to do with the key never turned, the road covered in trees,
what to do with the poem, the life un-
finished?
i don't
know.
what to do with the feelings no one sees that someone (in particular) should see?
what to do with those tears, shed in her room, absorbed by silence,
caught by a pillow, comforted by no one but the holy spirit himself?
what to do with these hidden, quiet, forgotten things.
how to be found by the one who loves her.
no one knows,
i do not know.
what to do with the broken pieces, the broken road,
the broken heart. who will have her now, the dark raven,
feathers so glossy you'd never see the wound, the blood,
the openness, the strength, the hurt.
how to recover . . . how to regain this ground?
that is the next step.
for now, to be hidden, to be seen, to be hurt,
to keep laying herself down and getting up the next day,
to be generous, to trust, to believe.
to love and be loved with a Love that knows no bounds.
and when i was drowning
in that holy water
all i could think of
was you
{ keane }
in that holy water
all i could think of
was you
{ keane }
4 comments:
oooh, the line about the glossy feathers and wound unseen...you, lady, are amazing. and as always, i'm here to listen. even if i'm not the one who needs to hear the words.
xo from da north
i am
here.
We do need to talk, and last night, while you almost called, I was thinking about you too.
loves my friend, over time and space.
........................................................................
[because what i'm feeling and feeling for you is really unspeakable]
hand + hand = squeeze
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