I carry. Upon my back, in my gut, and in my head, a hatred so deep
Into every inch of my existence it seeps
No common sense, perhaps no strength, to relieve myself of this disdain
Instead I choose to remember the pain
No gain of course, in remembering all that I have lost
For carrying this hatred is the biggest cost
I pay everyday, in some sort of way
Losing my grip 'cause of failure to pray
Yearning to lift myself above this seething, soon I won't be able to hear my heart beating
hatred hardens me, what a wonder I'm breathing
This can very well cost my death
holding on to something, that has already left
How does one break free? From chains of lessons learned
moving on from bridges burned
There is nothing more, nothing more but an ash of hate
I have heaped it on my plate,
"Move forward", they say, "it's never too late
That remains the great debate.
©Tia Clarke 2015
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