Catherine Beahl Poems

Golden dust upon these sacred lands draws near, angels of personified beauty; yet we misunderstand their guidance for truth, buried deep below our shark filled oceans of unknown mysteries - rushing through woe contaminated lakes and streams.

Caressing pasts intertwine present and future, sparking new balances upon scales of law and justice, thus completing long painful cycles - erasing hardship - creating new currents that push us forward, towards priceless advancements; hence, stretching arms of our elders, push imprisoned souls away from poisoned, historic moments of the past.
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Sweltering lands, co’ered with human flesh,
Decaying beneath a rising red sun;
Ravaging all, with wounds that bleed afresh;
Cankering bloody roses, just undone.
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Wander beneath blood-black skies, who art thou ravished?
Under sickly mounds of human squander; these purgatorial shades,
E’er bare hellish laughter. Wherefore wander these, tormented minds?
Swelter beneath blood-smear masks, of dead masquerades.
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She often walked along the shores
In windy weather or fair.
But now my sister strolls no more
Nor will she tell many stories to me.
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I would gladly swim
Your ocean
Of broken dreams
And walk across
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Thread my heart
With old chains of hatred.
Attach me to your so called
‘Perfect Heart’.
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You are the wind in my sails
That guides my ship to the docks.

You are the lantern
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Please…
Hear my plea.
I stand here
In some lonely streets
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My name always fell
Under the headline of tragedy;
Along with barbed comments
That ripped deeply
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Here is a withered rose,
From me to you,
Picked by my ghostly hands
From a garden full of weeds.
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