#33 healing poetry; dust-mote demons

In the hazy
summer light,
I fight, I fight
Gentle demons
that once
Visited me
at night
Now, they
hitch rides
on dust motes
and oh –
what a sight
what a sight
demons turn to
angels –
I fight, I fight
their hands
clutching at
my heart.
Tearing apart
From the dark –
I start, I start
To sing a lullaby
I knew long ago
Now the flowers
Begin to sway
Their petals
Are moaning
My muscles
Are groaning
In memory
Of your love
The demons
have sat on my skin
long enough
They begin
to depart
in droves –
I got used
to their
company – now
the peace
feels lonely
and spices
that make me cry
are a balm
to unreleased tears
tears, in the fabric
of my heart.
I start, I start
to sing
My heart, it
starts to sing
About the days
When –
I fought
I fought…

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