the hurt we hold

the hurt we hold
and hide and refuse to relent
that is the really bad one

my hand is empty from clutching
and so this meager portion
is all i can offer

a handful of dust
and even that
scattered to the wind

so i release it
release my sword
my pen
my machines
i release my heart to its memories
and my mind to its plans

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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