Tired of being told

© Copyright 2024 - Peter PHIR! The house is quiet But my mind is not Night rain lingers On the stones I am tired In bone and breath Tired in the place No hand can hold Beyond the paper screen A gray light forms Morning waits Inside the mist One slow breath One steady step I bow my head And rise again One breath, still heart I greet the dawn One breath, still heart I carry on One breath, still heart I greet the dawn One breath, still heart I carry on I am tired of speaking Where no one hears Tired of being measured By impatient years Tired of being told To set the burden down As if loss were a robe Folded neatly on the ground Dust-thought, drift-thought, old grief, cold grief Circling, returning, refusing relief Then the wind changes And I listen Now the dawn is not sky It is clearing within A pale line of order After so much din Then a hand finds mine In the unlit hall And a voice says gently Remain, remain One breath, still heart I greet the dawn One breath, still heart I carry on One breath, still heart I greet the dawn Not at peace But moving on I walked through fire And came back marked Carried the name of loss Deep in the dark But the dawn has changed Through water, flame, and time What wounded me now tempers The living edge inside Not for conquest Not for pride But to meet tomorrow With an open eye One breath, still heart I greet the dawn One breath, still heart I carry on Tomorrow may be difficult Yet it is mine to tend And all who wake in sorrow May still begin again One breath, still heart I greet the dawn One breath, still heart I carry on © Copyright 2024 - Peter PHIR!