Poetry Journal July 2012
This is all I have to cling to,
And I won’t stop,
Or sink
Forgiven or not
I cling to the wreckage,
Chanting something that might
Salvage me,
I am a shaman muttering pointless
Spells to avoid being devoured by sharks
Each poem, holy words,
Prayers to some higher being,
Translated for mere mortals
Who might comprehend
At least in part
These things locked previously
In my heart,
Too scared to stay silent,
Dreading that wordless vacuum
Where nothing thrives,
I cannot stop,
Even if I’ve already been abandoned,
These words serving as my self-created life preservers
They are all I have, perhaps all I’ve ever had,
And all I ever will have,
To paddle my way back
To more welcome waters
Where forgiveness means more
Than mere words
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