Pain, Prayer, Poetry

It hurts in too many places

to name properly

And somehow

between the ache

and the silence

words start forming

As if the body

is trying to explain itself

to an invisible unavailable audience..

As if the night itself

has leaned close

to listen

As if every nerve

is a small lamp

flickering

for a presence

it remembers.

The pain keeps knocking

from within..

not to be cured,

but to be known. 

Like a river in the dark,

searching for the sea it has never seen

yet cannot forget.

What language does the body speak

when no one is there to answer?

It trembles, burns and calls

softly

like a prayer

that does not know

who it is meant for

and still rises. 

Somewhere

the sky is opening

its quiet blue wounds

Somewhere

the wind is carrying

a name

it will never reach

And here

in this small, aching body,

a universe gathers

at the edge of tears

Waiting

not for answers

just for arms

that feel like home.

And until then

the pain will keep

turning into words..

and the words

into a kind of love..

that has nowhere to go

and so

stays

burning

gently

within.

^_^