Living Through The Wounds. Poem by Daisy Barman

Set away amid the noise
My tattered reality is pierced with thorns
My consciousness is shot with a gun
Trying to pass through
An unattainable destination.

The mark of the wounds
From the clutches
Grow more profound
In impenetrable caliginosity.

Obscure little light from beyond.
Can one ever attain that?
I wonder.

My aim is to steady my aim.
Afflicted with aimlessness
I'm now blind and crook.

A limb from my shoulder
Fell off in the storm
And vanished in the hole.

I'm wailing in anguish.

Emptiness
In the whirlpool of
Shadow and light
Light and shadow.

For ages I've been laying in the dry floor.
My wounds are rotten.

Can my crippledom be mothered again
And some splendid dreams be planted?
I wonder.

Because
A breathing corpse
Is striving against poisoned air.
Only to win the affection of rain.