forged in molded fire

for the moment
only the moon gets to see my face
riding the waves the ground has become
getting the feeling of a hundred year yawn
every moment seems like slow motion
directions of the air movements keep changing
in these forest shadows the trees and pine
needles and leaves make thier own conversation
moss is the bed that i coldly chose
only the sound of the river was here with me all night
love overwhelming any worry that could occur
during the simple songs i sing myself
eager to make this brand new life i lead
doing things like this recharges me
from the fear and anxiety and abuse
included in different times, different ways, different
relationships which make thier mark on me
everything will be okay because i am here now
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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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