Drawing and poem copyright Debbie Berk 2018
In this living that is not…
all that is left of the sacred are the sorrows lost to the mourning shadows of shame in the deep wounds of knowing of no tomorrows to come, of hearing no callings of death beyond, no voices of hope, not one to welcome us home but only the silence of a whispered prayer screaming into…
the Invitation of the Uninvited
The day is gray and silence save for the soft whispers of the slow moving shadows that so inviting they sway dancing like the swirling smoke of extinguished flame dare I beg them stay, join in as the distant sound of music now hauntingly plays like the echo of a long lost voice calling…
Storm Front
Never underestimate the calm or regard the silence as empty for it is most crowded there in those quiet thoughts…… Storm Front There is always no matter how quietly or how gently the wind stirs a brutal storm brewing within, waiting to burst through the silence of a shadow skin eager to devour the…
Ode to the Pretty Poets
So eloquently their eyes mirror empty and yes, we are told that this is what beauty really is and that to suffer is to truly live so we ignore our own deaths get lost in their depths and praise being lost in the nowhere places of the nothingness spaces we long to call home if…
Sorrow Opens a Window
Hope left without leaving a note, just the ghosts of words it never spoke but only kept in silent truths tucked neatly away in the shadowy deep corners of a private pain and the quiet of its unheard tears that scream out now like the wind, begging to be let back in 10/6/2015 ©Debbie…
