Not the Hour

Torn by loyalties,


Surging gales

With raging power.

This is surely not the hour

For the rending,

Wounds re-opened.

Bleeding blistered words

As tokens.

Poisons deadly,

Sutures opened,

Draining pus 

And stagnant grievance,

Charged with cowardice

And treason.



Petrified in distant moments.

Escaping from their gnarled grasp,

This lily has become an asp.

Breaking chains,

But few are chosen

To leave behind an aging storm,

To reawaken,

Dreams reborn.

It’s not for ashes 

We should mourn.


Author: moonmaenad

Unskilled Navigator of this ocean we call life..somebody throw me a lifejacket STAT…or a clever and friendly dolphin

4 thoughts on “Not the Hour”

    1. Holistic, Thanks very much..💖it was written after a long trip back to see family after my mother passed amazed me the pain and envy and rancor..especially about the placement of the me, all foolishness

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