Poetry: Of My Soul

Everything was dark
To the depths of my soul
Never had been see a spark
From my blackness without parole

Wronged marked the door
Sorrow staid any stream of light
Bitterness and vengeance were evermore
In my endless night

My torment and fear
At the hands of my self
A pain unable to bear
Was the dimension of my gulf

I was doomed to my fate
Of misery everlasting
Payment for sins un-berated
No hope of which to cling

What is this?
A trickle of warmth
Has found its way to my abyss
It is blood and water and breath

Come for my pain to dismantle
It melts through my windows and door
With hope that fire kindles
Breaking, forgiving to my core

It is a hand, a whisper
A liberator who has suffered more than I
He lifts me above and higher
Where death cannot come nigh

Light streams all around
Darkness gives way to the morning
With it joy is found
Dissipating hate and mourning

He uncovered me there
Trapped in the prison of my own soul
In sin’s desperate lair
And cleared the charges of my scroll.

by Ia Stavig
An Inkling

Poetry: Being

Being

 

They are here

The fresh, nippy air flows through their lungs

They live here

The sky’s endless expanse above them

They feel here

Far up the crowds are breaking open

They see here

A shiny light, the moon is not full

They give here

Thousands of people who don’t see it

They overcome here

Does no one know to esteem our world?

Do you live it?

Do you feel it?

Do you see it?

Do you give it?

Do you overcome it?

Are you?

By Maike

An Inkling