Gasping for breath
Quivering in the cold
Not Even
The Rescuing sirens rolling through the fog of the Vineyard Sound,
could ease this blow from the fist of love.
Crumbling the infrastructure from within
Jarring the teeth to impulsively rattle
Continually piercing the lips to a numbness state of exasperation
as the
Beaten-down body whispers these words into the moonlight…
Deathifying the pounding of the heart
As the cold-relentless wind swirls around the taste of true sacrifice,
Without forgiveness
Providing a pasting memory of all that was great,
A time of happiness, few are lucky to understand and embrace without reservation.
A stabbing reminder
The blade of fate can thrust into,
However,
Lying beneath
is the Will to overcome,
Without compensation,
Igniting the fury
No longer, resting on the cloud of fear,
But,
Electrifying each strand of hair, as if, standing in uniform
Even when
The tears cut a path down the wounded cheek
Even when
The dormant blood has time to stain the surface
Even when
The night overpowers the light
THIS IS
The first speck of light that battles
Out in front,
To be the first to meet the new light of dawn
Without flexing a muscle
Victory kissed the horizon
To tell a lesson, to be, never forgotten
Kris Wilson lives in Vineyard Haven.
