Deeply Interior Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Deftly turning into recesses of deepest interior.
Holding onto small fragments of a broken heart,
feeling lost and empty, with no one to impart
them to.
Soul-turning sorrow, wrenching apart the little
bit of love left over from a broken friendship.
Delaying the inevitable, trying desperately to
fold in upon itself.
Hiding inside could get rid of pain and doubt -
if only it could be done.
Lying open, bleeding, turning cold as ice - left
for dead before evening begins.
Turning over silently, tears dripping down a face,
eyes look straight through you and are lost upon
a deserted shore.
No one can follow this lost soul or share it's
heart, the journey it must take is long and hard.
Over treacherous mountains, scaling highest
elevations - then falling down among dirt-filled
cisterns, no one to love.
Steadfastly walking through unending canyons,
finding deep their very chasms.
Left alone to find a path of it's own making -
left along without a love to console.
Sloshing through mud-mired fields of yesterday,
tiring of all the filth and dirt.