The words flow, my bleeding pen shouting forgiveness, and granting redemption, a real escape in my paradox.
The emotions that come from the ease of my mind, letting go drifting into a different reality.
Or maybe I’ll drift into a holy place, desecrated by the incessant need for more than everything.
A love story ensues on the banks of the Euphrates sands, softly kissing sunlight illuminating her skin.
A damned man screaming redemption from the mistakes of a moment’s weakness, as do we all.
A hooded man walks down a cobbled road in Manchester, a fire in his eye uncontained.
The hope of something better for the small child in my arms, tears brought by the dime-sized eyes.
The tears shed by a mother’s grievance, for a fallen son.
It all whispers in my ears, the words, the emotions, if I close my eyes and truly listen.
It almost makes sense.
To let my pen bleed, and hear what it is my heart has to say, for it whispers more than anything else.
The thrill comes from feeling the words, the touch, and the emotion, from being there.
I have never physically seen the holy corruption of our god’s church.
I have not kissed those sunlit lips on the diamond sands of raging waters
I have not yet screamed redemption for my scarlet sins,
I still see them white.
While I have not seen my mothers fallen tears, or dime-sized eyes of innocence.
Or a passion of fire truly ungoverned.
I have felt these things.
I have felt god leave my soul, the emptiness that comes from the sudden departure of a heavenly body.
I know what her skin feels like, how it glows underneath the sunset, and the softness of the lips.
The diamond dusts have brushed through my toes and kicked at my legs while waters rage.
I have wanted redemption from the pain more than I want life itself, release from the pain.
For I see the bloody sheet of my soul stained red and black now, only white with fallen tears.
I feel the weight of the child in my arms, the beauty so radiant from those dime sized eyes.
I caught the fallen tears from my mother’s eyes, and watched them fall through my hands.
I have an uncontrollable fire that can never be quenched in my being, burning a raging hole in every step I take.
These things I have truly felt, for my heart wonders, and I let it.
It wonders, I close my eyes,
I try to listen, wield a pen,
And I let it fly,
Let it bleed,
Dry.
by: Phillip Krell
