The Mourning Veil
There are ruins within all of us ,
Bones of our structures that once stood tall and strong,
Decaying , rotting , decomposing,
Unheard wails that echo through corridors,
Fading to jagged whispers of what grief once was.
Walls that crumble, a slow demise,
Weathered , worn and weary,
Dry rot setting into the foundation,
Innumerable years of unshed tears.
Generations of un-grieved wounds,
Knit scars across this landscape,
A learning lost throughout the line,
From ancestors who feared its ferocious power,
Yet released it back into the world anyway.
To keen , to lean, to fall down deep into the clutches of grief,
To much to conceive this insufferable torture,
Taped shut at the mouth of the howling cavern,
A grief bridle, an unyielding iron mask,
We bow down crowning DENIAL our new world leader.
Whilst deep within us stirs a wildness ,
A deep calling of hidden knowledge of old,
That yearns to summon black demons,
To be possessed by the priestess of darkness,
A need to be broken , fractured and dismembered.
To dig , claw with bloodied hands,
In this sacred altered state,
Within the foundations of that temple,
To release the shackles that have been placed upon her,
From generations back to Adam and Eve.
To lift the mourning veil is to expose ,
Freedom, from all her former bondages,
A resurrection , new blood through old veins,
For when she is exorcised by that ritual,
She will remember herself back home.
White Raven – 08:08:2020 Poetry is from the heart , a form of art , an expression born of an emotion in time. If you care to share then from my heart to your heart please do and always credit the artist.