THE CURTAIN (An Original Poem)

As the curtain
of darkness is drawn tight
and the incense smoke hangs still,
muse settles in
and I become its channel

it’s quick to remind me
in its soft murmurs
that possibilities and hope
are still well within
the reach of my mind

muse, my sweet amnesia,
makes me forget my wounds,
my worries and
the prickly ache of time passed

once refocused in the moment
it’s easy to see my scars
make me who I am
but do not define me

worries are only time wasted,
my muse is otherworldly
and Heaven sent,
it leaves me lifted,

with the warmth of it
wrapped around me
I can brush the
the frigid throes of this world
from my shoulders

again I can walk
with head raised,
proud of each facet of my soul,
happy in every cell of my being,
filled with the heightened
anticipation of what might be.

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A Little About This Poem: Writing has gotten me through a lot of challenges in my life. Writing has been my therapist, my priest, and like a loyal and trusted friend. It gives me back much more than the time I invest in it. It's like a pool of peace that I retreat into when the world has depleted me and my soul needs to be recharged. I hope you felt some of that in this piece. Have a good evening everyone.

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