Suffering

Alphabet Ravine9 Comments

When my black butterflies come
with their razor wings that make me bleed,
and they darken the horizon as far as eye can see,

(And the black butterflies do come,
with their razor wings that scratch and screech
on the chalkboard of my heart, to start to suck the nectar out.)

I remember the dark night
the words on the pages came to life,
how the written story started coming true.

I recall the curve ball, then the full arc,
the empty tomb

sealing the happy ending waiting
to rise to life too.

9 thoughts on “Suffering”

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