-vince me if you can that broken brave is
no oxymoron, that we can be swayed toward
forgiveness in these silent burning days. That
one last glimpse of praise might save us from
our midnight sorry selves, our fallen findings,
the too-tired bindings that have held us fast.
At last, perhaps we’ll befriend bones and skin,
glorious within our own blood lust disasters.
Hopscotch chalk me an unbarred sky, a private
why that just might pass for truth. Let me be
tween these cacophonies of clouds, clacked proof
that rain will come and all is not so lost. Herein lies
the rub, the doubled rainbow hula-hoop of toxic
troubled souls: we are but warriors against concrete
walls of our own making. Flush with fear, but here.
Drink up. Stay thirsty, friend. Break through.
This is the one with all the prompts. These are getting to be utter nonsense, but it’s still amusing to try to get all the thoughts in there, and I plan to see this thing through to the end. 😉