The Wounded Sky

No birds or angels fly
across the wounded sky
storm clouds holding onto years
of unshed tears
clothe the sky in swirling grey
the edges fray
tearing a hole in the dark membrane
a spreading stain
of sunlight pools upon the ground
hope is found
struggling up on tattered wings
it sweetly sings

Inspired by



Words have lost their voices
they no longer speak for me
I thought they were my friends
I thought I could rely on them
but they have left me alone
I wander through blank pages
a tiny blot of ink
with no meaning
or purpose
and silenced


what is this fearful restlessness?
sitting immobilized all day,
reading or writing
or just thinking
but my whole being
suffused by a feeling of
constant motion
and frustration
I can’t make myself get up
and do anything
I am waiting
for what? I do not know
can anything happen
that will break me out of this
agitated state of mind?
I wonder if this is my life now
has everything I used to love
gone forever?
day after day I wait for it to be
better tomorrow
but tomorrow never comes
and nothing changes
but my body
growing weak and soft
from inactivity
and panic rises
at the thought
of everything left undone.
In moments of clarity
when I can see beyond
the end of the sofa
I ask myself
how did I get so lost?