It is the haunting of the words, the disturbed silences of the aching thoughts like lost souls searching for “home” and I, their tortured guide offering up each and every time a vein to set the restlessness of our deaths free along with this half light of the living darkness in me that whispers through…
The Cursed
Creative image created using the effects and images within the editing apps on my ipad Poem © Debbie Berk The Cursed The curse of blood the darkness of love a bitter soul I am the hardened heart of endless night forever growing old unable to quiet the curse too deep in my bones so deep…
To bleed
is necessary in order to feel, to feed the soil of the soul that hungers for immortality or simply the hope, the idea that we are more than this these bones these ghosts sowing seeds of surrender inside of the light for a better understanding of the darkness that breeds, grows In deaths womb new…
