The conflict of this poem is that I cannot find any peace or comfort in writing it. It feels awkward and uncomfortable. For the first time, I think I will publish an incomplete piece. And find comfort in my own short-comings.
For once.
For once.
Nachamu
From where
Will comfort come from
When all of our comforts
Have betrayed us
Batteries dead
Clothing torn
Food spoiled
Jobs lost
Hearts broken
Love lost
Lives take
Can we be comforted
When we feel so uncomfortable
My skin is wrong
I was born in the wrong body
My flesh is a prison
My mind, a locked door
Some imbalance holds they key
But somehow
Somehow
You will comfort me
The world
Has gone a little mad
Stabbings in the street
Distorted perception of love
But somehow
We shall be comforted
All the pain
That
I think this is stronger because it is unfinished.
ReplyDelete