Red Velvet Sand
I feel the pricks of sand beneath my tender hands,
As though I were sat atop a shattered glass beach,
With my head cocked towards the blissful Sky.
I don't understand how this could be;
As I do not feel,
the pain of others within the crevices of my fingers.
For I was born to rain upon this world,
In magnificent showers.
But where I am now
-- between the sea and the pavement --
Leaving little to be desired.
I have watched the men before I walk upon the pavement,
collapsing before reaching a point,
Flush with the sky.
I don't know where I should go,
For the blood dripping from my bones remains,
Should I perhaps
Waft side to side,
within the tumultuous ocean?
Or shall I stride along the solid cement path that may offer little,
For my heart fears the night,
The darkened sticks that may offer a foothold by which to fall.
I feel the world around me,
I am not numb to its pain,
Swirling heavily within.
Yet I still sit without the feeling of the blood trickling down my spine,
How blissful it is to sit atop the sand of boulders,
Watching the sun rise.
But how the sand glistens from those that had waited before me,
Coloring it velvet,
Before an orange sky.
Power be to God,
To guide me along a desolate path,
Sowing the wounds from the sand that tears me down.