It was more like a quiet storm,
the subtle strike of her
sharp gaze pierce my soul
like black stars against wooden dummies.
I was afraid to look at her,
for her eyes held all truth,
not only about things common
but all things, about me.
Her starstruck gaze, had my shoulders
dropping, my head turning like exorcism,
I never felt, such a beautiful pain..
pain of never seeing tomorrow or
the pain of seeing first born brother
slaughtered, or the pain
of knowing you’re a puppet
to society
For you see,
She made me undulate!
like the rising and lowering of tides or,
the wail of a siren in distance
she was as abstract as possible,
sat upon the pedestal of her
oppressors and left war in her wake.
I never felt such a beautiful pain..
The pain to dream and to believe,
the pain to hope, to wake up
from a false existence, or the pain
to desire for a brighter life other than
the ones seen selling rocks on
auction blocks.
In her eyes I saw
a quiet storm,
so quiet, you could
hear the wind speak,
and if you would listen,
just for minute
you could feel the
beautiful pain
of the truth.
Copyright 2012 | Robert Drake
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