michael frost

The Wall Inside

a silver dawn approaching silently with a morning mist shrouding the days intentions,
a babbling brook whispering untold truths of far away places.
and i naked before the coming dawn stripped down to my bare essence.
the memory of a lovers sweet touch warms the core of my being and i am oblivious to the days early chill.
a mid-life crises swept away by a mid-life renaissance,
the wounded lion returned to his throne his majestic love restored by the mouse
and mine rebuilt by two small smiling boys with warm hands and open hearts,
whose innocence and sense of wonder have melted my hardened shell
and have allowed me once again to bask in the warm glory of an existence filled with a love thats shining brightly through every fibre of my bruised and battered soul.
once again the phoenix has arisen and where lay only smoking embers
a resurrection has taken place.
death shown in its true form as nothing more the a gateway to an untold beauty of the kind that exists in the imagination of small children,
they who are still pure and not subdued by life's wicked ways.
and you my new lover as close as my own heartbeat
your smiling face in my minds eye a new coat of armor.
its magnificent splendor shielding me from hardship for now and forever
and i the flower, the dark days sticky dust washed clean by the long nights sweet sweet rain.
the cardboard gangsters reduced to paper and scattered by the coming wind,
as my precious petals unfold in the dawns silken hand.
the pipers been paid and smokes alone in silence.
the silver sword lies rusting in its sheath, darkened bunkers stockpiled with weapons of mass self destruction.
i the warrior, war worn and weary must continue to fight the shadows that are my own,
and taste the sickly sweet of the prison that i have created for myself.
whose barred windows are the only light source in the dark truth of the self.
the walls that i have built torn down and rebuilt, impound me still in a timeless struggle between a peaceful yes and a violent no.
and the strength to continue the battle flickers in and out like a faulty bulb in an overtime world...
and the sadness inside, held in only by the walls that ive spent a lifetime trying to scale,
the unbreakable dam stands intact for i have built it so well driven by the fear that i would drown in the river of sorrow that would surely erupt were it ever to burst.
each falling tear splashing me with an inconsolable grief and soaking further my sodden soul and releasing that which i fear the most,
and still i await as if for godot who has never arrived and may never appear, for that which i have boxed off and buried so deeply may not see the light of day, remaining caged, parole denied....

Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 27, 2009
Poem Edited: Monday, September 10, 2012

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