My eyes look outward,
see all this bitter cold.
My sight sees mischief,
so my anxieties take hold.
Where I am looking is
not supplying calm that
I thought would be there;
I see visions of black.
I must shed all this fear
and awaken my strength
from depths of my tears
struck me blind and I sink.
Break I will at the bottom,
where I scratch to crawl out.
My eyes that saw mischief
I direct inward at my doubt.
I’ve a place I used to go
it was a pasture calm grows.
A field fertile with new soil,
awaits new strength I sew.
Beautiful poem Jared.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you very much.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure.
xoxo
LikeLiked by 1 person
Poignant and beautifully written. Well-done, Jared!
LikeLike