The night skies rained on the day the soul had died. People gathered on the streets to remember him and cry. The universe stopped for a moment and everything was still, besides my body. It trembled with fear. The view there was breath taking, the way the moon lit the sparkle in her eyes. A cool breeze blowing her hair... I reached out for her Hand but she violently withdrew my blessing. Almost as if my skin would burn her to the soft touch. I tried to yell to her 'help me' but my throat was swollen shut. I felt my eyes begin to grow heavy and I could no longer fight. Sometimes I wonder if she was ever even there? After all who could abandon a dying soul?
Left weeping and frozen to drown in the storm. Comforted by the moon, the stars, and her memories
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow Blaine! ! I got dragged into reading your poem when I looked at the title.. The usual concept of souls' being immortal is something we all hear so I first applaud you to break from that. Poetic imagination is all about breaking away from the usual thinking... Now getting back to the poem your idea of setting this up on a rainy evening is perfect. People gathering and personifying the soul as a female is also apt.. Then you bring the speaker in and and he/she talks about his/her feelings.. I decided to read your poem first today, and I really don't regret it mate! A perfect one, for me :) Thanks for sharing...
Thank you so much! This is the best thing anyone has ever said about my poetry!