The lovers left me with soft wounds
So, I stood between the trees, listened to their whispers, telling me why these wounds smell of death's shadow, they said;
I have let my wounds rot in the palms of hope
I have let them suffocate from the healing truth, with bandaged hurt
And I have let my own shadow, become death itself
I then sowed a seed in the night
The lovers became dreams
I could taste my own blood on their hands, my eyes became black like the widow's soul, i knew i sought healing
Water came as a spirit, i washed my wounds, i was tired but i washed them clean
The lovers became doves, with twigs in their mouths that carried parts of me i had lost
The twigs fell to the ground, i went to collect myself once again
My shadow had starved, and i remember the fire that fed it
It was, my forgiveness, i forgave myself, for not listening to the lovers as they murmured, 'heal yourself'.
♥
