Two razors form a crucifix
I hope for resurrection
They cut a map upon my flesh
To provide me with direction.
The blood makes tears, upon my arms
The ones my eyes can’t shed
Despite the pain, traumatic grief
The blackened heart of dread.
It makes life real, and validates
The hurt that lives inside
I’m trying to escape from it
I wish I could have cried.
On looking back, it’s plain to see, the trauma that’s been moving me, to run, to flee from tragedy, help me destroy the memory that leaves me locked internally, behind the walls encircling me.
To keep you out.
There’s a map upon my skin
Raised ridges scar this lanscape
A map of life and emotion
That only found it expression
Through the tears of a blade.
So many journeys and destinations
People and buildings mapped out.
I look over the information, the symbols, the key.
How do I find my way to my destiny if it’s not on the map? Not written in big red letters?
It’s time to find the cross
Erase another line,
Let the tears flow free again
And maybe i can make that sign.
The destinations there,
It’s waiting to be found.
To lay this black, dead heart
Inside the sacred ground.
The tears of red will light the way.
And keep the fear of life away.
Until that final blessed day.
“TEARS OF A BLADE”
“Tears of a blade” you’ll hear me say.
P.S. my poetry can be quite intense. I am OK. Writing is recovery.