Are you a curse that plagues me well,
sore on my soul for all to tell?
Or are you a gift to lengthen my day,
to twist my path beyond my way -
to wake me from my quiet nothing,
and stir me into a frenzied something:
rumblings bursting, scars revealed,
a voice erupting beyond its seal -
this silent grave exposing all,
fresh open wounds, a naked soul,
or pulling flesh, bone by bone,
no longer still, no more alone?