I have found a way
to cloud my tears
and yet exist
in the unpleasantness
of this decade,
while wagging tongues
wade the distant rivers
waging wars of rhetoric.
I only hear the sound
of nature’s voice
reciting the eternal pages
of her beautiful poetry.
Were it a blue reaching sky
a crimson glow across the horizon
or the flight of a distant dove
it does not matter.
My heart whispers
in soaring, rhythmic phrases
that traipse across this gentle landscape
rhyme rolling off of the tongue
like nectar dripping from honeysuckle
its slow descent, intensifies the pleasure,
but still, what have I wrought from this –
unending bliss in a world of my own making?
For what makes me complete
what makes me whole
is the heart with which beats beneath my breast.
No matter the pain, the hidden scars, the tears wept
I must listen with good intent
for hidden behind the recesses of this existence,
beauty has gently laid her head
between the sleeping forms
of those who need compassion.
Were I to find it there, I would be blessed
but ever so much more, should I open their eyes
so they can see it.
© Sumyanna 2017
Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com