The dusted hope of a resilent mind.

The deserted hopes, dead and buried.

The ever crawling darkness, lingering,

To find a place in something ‘surrendered’,

Wheat’s the meaning of it all, I wonder.

 

Each time I let go the vulnerability kicks in

More room for sin, than I can imagine!

What’s the meaning of love and hurt?

Don’t let it bud, kick it to the curb!

 

Wandering abandoned from one place to another,

Unsure of how long I can run away further.

“Bring me back to life!” the soul cries out,

But it’s like an unquenchable thirst in the drought.

 

Will I ever find a place call ‘home’?

Will I ever find a hope to lean on?

Will that ray of light shine through darkness someday?

“Shun it, mute it, keep that thought at bay!”

Rebecca Banwar

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