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What Remains

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This is how it starts.
The thinnest wisp of smoke in the stomach,
The tinniest jolt in time.
The heart, as yet, remains unmarked.

But a flame with strength beyond control has sparked
And lends weight to the smoke that rises to choke
the lungs and throat and whatever remains
Of beauty, or brains.

The heart, as yet, remains unmarked.

I stood there in that fire, burning with sin,
In a court of mirrors where self professed higher powers,
Faithless and False, condemned my fatal flaw.
Their reflections gave a terrified grin,
Not liking what they saw.

The heart, not marked, but burning red raw

Gave way, not to fires, but ashes of doubt
And tears and stains
Of blood in veins that won't pour out
But oh God! It rains! It rains!

The heart, unmarked and yet still feeling, won't beat!
A drought! A drought!

Then standing in the quiet sea,
Whispering softly to deaf ears
Whilst the ebbing tide dried,
It took me years

To look up and find your eyes.

We both of us seemed drained
When I sat myself in the dark
And explained away the fires and smoke,
Whilst you, (impossibly), found a spark.

These rains have left their mark.
What remains, though, is my heart.

lossmental healthremainsWhat

◄ MBC

Comments

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Graham Sherwood

Sun 23rd Sep 2012 21:10

Gave way, not to fires, but ashes of doubt
And tears and stains
Of blood in veins that won't pour out
But oh God! It rains! It rains!

These are very good lines Lois.

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Ray Miller

Fri 21st Sep 2012 14:00

Nice poem. I like the rhymes popping up here and there.You might try
Messrs. Faithless and False... for the assonance with "mirrors".
It's "wisp" of smoke
I think you mean "tiniest"....but maybe not.

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