#33 healing poetry; dust-mote demons

In the hazy summer light,I fight, I fightGentle demons that onceVisited me at nightNow, they hitch rideson dust motesand oh – what a sightwhat a sightdemons turn toangels – mid-flight.I fight, I fighttheir handsclutching atmy heart.Tearing apartFrom the dark –I start, I startTo sing a lullabyI knew long agoNow the flowersBegin to sway Their petalsAreContinue reading “#33 healing poetry; dust-mote demons”