Shrouded In the cold, dark and dank.
Isolated – Alone.
For all the lights burnt out….
All must be able to see these scars, my private
Laid bare – exposed – seen by one and all to examine as they choose as when they like, being regular fodder for one and all.
For all must know? Heights of the tunnelled despair of distance with choice removed for the heightened mania throughout promiscuity a constant torture to my vesselised soul.
Some Little days of rays of gobaith, hoped treasure within built up somehow as the years past through me, and yet then time stood still too.
Through every breath all I carried never expelling only suppressing.
For this all had to be, as it was, as it is, For me to know the best and worst parts within me. This my illness was sent to me to teach, to embrace all parts of your self the good.
Yet now standing out into the other side, I see, for I stand now out of the cold, out of the dank and dark, in the fullness light lighted life and I feel warm, for this is the freedom of my soul that is my fire within and I tend to it always.
Copyright Myfanwy 2019
Posted in: Poetry/ Ancient Traditions