And with the dawning of the facts
the bubble of my own faith
explodes and spreads like shards of glass
across each path I choose to tread.
The cuts and scrapes, blood and pain,
not ever seen in my belief
yet force upon the wondrous “me”
a coming down to artful earth.
But the land itself is innocent
forced to endure just like me
and shines the glass heavenward
like a signalled S.O.S.
Sometimes it misses, shines at me;
can it be I’m dubbed the saviour
and the one and only skilled enough
to repair a bubble?
The wondrous “me”; how can it be
my body’s pierced with glass
and I stand as one in ignorance
of projected faith?
Shine on, shine on, shine on me,
oh, glass and master of dis-ease,
because projected faith
always outweighs reflections!
wow i,m enticed by her poetry as i,m also a person who wants to be a professional poet .they are really breathtaking.she makes her world rotate in her hand like a master. she takes what we dont see like a rock star and truly i,m fascinated by her mystery work which makes me wonder is this our world or theirs ?
ReplyDeleteThank you Sboniso. I think it's a world that was and perhaps could be again if all who inhabit this world were of one purpose.
ReplyDeleteHelen, you are phenomenal, this is an awesome poem and its very inspiring...... Keep up the good work my sister
ReplyDeleteThank you, Phinah. It makes me happy that you found it inspiring and now with me reading it again, I too am inspired. I actually needed to read it today so thank you for taking me back there.
ReplyDeleteRegards
Helen