Feelings Held Poem by Peter Black

Feelings held in youth would grow
Large as mountains, crag, split; slope
Up into the mists of different airs,
And I would swallow them from down bellow,
Hiding them beneath my heart:
Keep them secret in a gourd like spot,
That once knocked chimes dull hollow;
But now when disturbed—in monster roars,
Making me think my inner light has gone;
Diseased from within, I am rotten marked-
Though I am working the stones over sharp,
Polishing them into jewels that throw
My inner light flash with stark color.