Poet warrior's Blog: Poems, articles and musings.

Letting go of the demon's hand - Day 11 - A fifth snapshot.

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A fifth snapshot – The arid man.


Unlike some of the other shadow filled snapshots, this one is of a man stuck in the desert under the midday son. As only a desert filled with sand dunes that are caressed by errant breezes causing sand to drift forlornly can capture how lonely and desiccated he feels.

He’s not sure where the tears have gone or when they left all he knows is that he doesn’t seem to have any for himself and more than that when it comes to singing himself a calming or healing song even his heart strings have snapped.

Perhaps the desert is a fitting environment for him as where else could he be standing in midday sun and feel so lost and alone. Where else could he scoured clean and still be dry.

Why do we never wonder what sin the desert committed to be so barren and dry? In the same way why do we never wonder when the tears won’t flow for ourselves let alone for anyone else?

Who told us we weren’t worth anyone’s tears, especially our own. Whose disapproving looks and frowns caused our tears to be dammed behind a locked door whose key we either can’t find or don’t want to find?





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