09:17

There were so many little reasons;

you were never one

for bold and epic gestures.

Just a tedious whittling away

at my very soul.

A harrower of guilt,

a worrier of exposed bone;

it’s a wonder no one put you away

a long time ago.

 

It was 09:17 in the morning

and the sunlight was coming through,

faded yellow curtains,

revealing the truth of you.

There was blood caked on your lips

and cuts all over your hands,

but you were free now,

who could believe how

much difference one day makes.

But they would never understand.

 

This all takes me back.

Back to the days when we would play

in the forest

and there would be eyes watching.

Tall, thin people

with knives,

stalking

and we would run

and laugh,

because we didn’t know any better.

Danger was danger close,

but we never saw the ghosts

just playful shadows.

 

Heaven was the place you were going,

where you taking me,

where you were sending us all.

It never came to be,

turned out I didn’t want to leave.

When the men arrived,

there was a silence,

where was your violence?

You went so quietly.

It turns out

you were trying to kill

a different part of me.

Good thing you raised the seed

of an ironwood tree.

 

It was 09:17 in the morning

and I could hear the birds,

I could finally hear the words,

you said;

“We better get moving.

you don’t wanna let the light fade

before we go away.”

I never forgot to pray,

I was just so scared

my prayers would be answered.

 

You were my Marion,

and I would never let you down,

except I always let you down;

but I’m doing better now.

No one sees the wind,

but they know,

when tears their house down.

 

HG -2016

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