Overwhelmed with great sorrow, her lashes fled light, and sweeping with abundant force and anguish, they gripped tightly to their lower companions. Grasp broken with salt and water, she wept. All about her was raw and shaking, and there was nothing good to be held. Housing her unseen eyes were sunken cavities, craters of darkness about her face. The covering of her bones was loose with the stress of life, and her years were younger than appeared. Her locks were tangled with fury and disgust, swept in groups, and twirled about her head. Her neck was wrung, by her own doing, and her breathing grotesque. Sudden bursts of raspy breath were beheld, only to fall silent once more. And again, in repeat, this solemn, burning vision played its song: harsh, airy, and full of death. Her gulps persisted. Embraced about her waist and body, in full, were her very own arms, bruised and scrawny. Her pale complexion, all but a curse to her now, lived a canvas to her torment. Every speck, bruise, laceration, and worry was seen about it. Dirt clung to her and her clothing, and she was stained with disease. She wore her world about her skin and bones, for that is all she had to bear. And yet, in the unforgiving silence that encompassed her mind, she heard a still and quiet voice. It was great and powerful, while being both compassionate and filled with understanding. “You know not of perfect love, for I am love – complete – and in me there is no fear.” In hearing these words, her chest grew warm and burned with a cleansing fire. Throughout her bones it crept and gripped about her, creeping through her core, and swimming to the edges of her body. She was tingling and newly alive.
– Brittany Rose
(The voice is was inspired by 1 John 4:16 and 18)
I know I promised this like two days ago, but I fail, constantly. Hopefully by the end of today I will also have a 365 poem posted, but promising really does no good these days. I hope you enjoyed it; I would love to hear some feedback.