Skeletons
I quietly appreciate
Coming out the other end
Of another day.
I'm more or less unscathed.
It's dramatic to think
How damaged we are.
If it were up to me
Those skeletons we collect would stay
At the bottom of the closet.
But come out they must!
And it kills me.
Skeletons comfortable
Old socks god knits for us.
I would think to gather everyone's up
And have a big burning ceremony
Skeletons blackened, chard.
Everybody's fresh start.
People would stand around
Feeling the weight lift,
Smiles, ointment on skin.
People would have relief
And the belief in themselves rise up
As a balloon
The child holds within.
I will circle the fire
A liberator, a tiger watching over
And kneel not to fear
Any longer than forge forward wiser,
Stronger.
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Comments
Beautiful, and very familiar as I'm a tiger, absolutely you have one looking over you and your poems that truly speak from a soul to each soul who then reads, you know I quite like my skeletons it's true that without them, we wouldn't be who we are today. Another fantastic peice of poetry which is also inspiring and shaking the skeletons of your reader. Brilliant like your last words say. 🌹 I'm really enjoying your poems dear Rory. 🌹
Giggles when I read about how we wouldn't be who we are now without our skeletons
More than one meaning, I'm now giggling too. lol 🤣