Infliction

 

When an infliction is too deep

It cannot bleed

 

The wound may superficially heal

On the outside stitched closed

 

Remaining significant

No amount of depletion offered over the years

 

Simply occupying time

Nostalgic, dusty books gather in grief laying

On the shelves of yesterday’s libraries

 

In the quiet, anticipating, witnessing

As the cold, unforgiving season

Brings joy to the world.

 

Written by Corrina Leblond

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. lynxsaintemarie's avatar Lynx Sainte-Marie
    Dec 11, 2013 @ 20:25:22

    My favourite poem you have written so far.

    Reply

Leave a reply to Lynx Sainte-Marie Cancel reply

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