half heart

ancient bones from the grave … a historic tale of mortality

michaelmcguirt

deathless sleep of angel’s womb,

i fly as fetus

searching every drifting dream

for a pulse unborn –

the cry of the half heart.

~

heaven’s tears caress,

a shower of diamond light,

burning away ugliness, melting years,

bathing every lie.

i peal jacquards

of colour and time

to enter the vault –

truth to unlock all locks,

and open the gate

where we began – before,

~

before i was torn –

ripped suffering suckle,

immortal fruit’s desire – taken,

down

to walk as they walk,

smearing history

with animal’s blood

upon canvas and mind –

line upon line;

killing for poetry,

praying for art,

sacrificing the purest of the pure –

more than i knew,

more than i cried for

~

and,

dying, because

they said so.

they said i must.

they, how be it,

said too much –

but reaching, always

for the fading hand,

i descend…

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About michael mcguirt

Finding myself in this version of me...........mm View all posts by michael mcguirt

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