Cursed by thirst unquenchable
beneath a blazing sky,
Gaze distorted by burning mist
that wells within her eyes.
A soul that weeps before mankind,
for truths they’ve never seen–
of jaded hearts, of bleeding flesh,
of wounds that lie between.
An angel to the suffering,
a guardian to the soul,
a seraph who has fallen,
sunk within beguiling shoal.
Who will deliver this fragile one
whose eyes, too worn to cry?
To lift her up on mended wings
into the blazing sky?
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Categories: All Poetry, Life & Love, Poetry by Phoebe
This makes me think you are writing from experience. Knowing a few wounded healers, I would say you hit the perfect note.
Yes, you are right. And thank you for reading. 🙂
Once again… really amazing. Thank you for sharing your poetry!
You’re so kind, thank you! 🙂
So sad 🙁 I would lift her!
💙 💙 💙