In the hours of lost breath and sadness
thoughts are not immaterial or weightless.
They are weighted like lures
Deep below the water
And sleep is not heavy.
Is my breath wasted in this metal trap?
At this hour of sorrow what could assure my dreams?
When love is dancing and evaporating into the mist of morning
I am enveloped in its absence and
I gasp to keep my lungs inflated
Despite their fragility.
The air is lucid and conducive for sleeping,
Awake yet, i struggle transcend grieving
Praying for the clarity
And rest for my love
Not yet at peace in the pieces of the cross.
So many things hang heavy on my dreams
And still...
Rest will come after the passage of mourning,
Though nailed forever to the walls of my heart.
