Spirits

Crimson lips
dipped in poison
whisper pious words.
Head bent forward
prayer of supplication
no need to fear.
Cross to bear
my own.
Hatred to shed
yours.
Unsure if I am able to go forward
without the abuse of your dead.
Walking amongst the forgotten
fingers trailing
whisping frost
disintergrating
from my warm touch.
Each spirit I stroke
echoes  a plea
‘let me go’.
I look to release them
from this plane.
Forgiveness is not required.
I see thickened strands
black shadows
acting as shackles
keeping them close to me.
With a single thought
I unlock each one
allowing the spirits to flee.
Sept. 7/18
Photo by Michael Weidner on Unsplash

Alone

This intricate dance we have.

Ten steps back for every one forward.

When it comes to our hearts,

to our fears.

You pull me close

whispering tenderness in my hair,

making my heart weep

for I know that this shall not last.

With certainty you will break before me.

Cold remorse and steel tears

as you tell me that it cannot be done;

that my shadows are too much.

You think that I know this not?

I have lived with these inky images

wrapped around my soul

for eternity without reprieve.

As you kneel before me,

my hands in your hair,

your weeping so soft

the barest of sound that I cannot hear.

The shadows have won.

For once more I am alone.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

Oct. 21 2017