Echoes of My Life

A poem

A poem

Photo by Kyle Broad on Unsplash

I clasp the memory 
with crooked hands,
seared upon my soul forevermore.
A withered garland, black with dread,
removing all the parts 
that hardens my heart.

Wedded like wefts in the weave of the skein,
the spirits come to play, 
a mixture of dread and tears.
A longing somewhere in the wind, 
where broken souls cry out,
and sing their saddest songs 
upon the waves.

In the depths of sweet serenity, 
I burn despite the chill,
where lonely stars bleed their light 
in the frost of my heart.
As I awaken from a dream, 
the winds of mourning call
while the future sighs with a solemn face, 
a lonely migrant on your shore.