When Poetry Arrives

fountain pen on text sheet paper with rose

(Photo-Thinkstock)

I found it coming,

In the pitch-black numbness creeping in,
Silencing vague groans inside.
Sweating and fretting,
It stood there,
In the cul-de-sac of muddled thoughts,
For that one final gaze.

Then it fell,
Like the first rain drop,
Into my cavernous cracks,
Coaxing the dried up soul,
Taming my twisted tantrums,
Tying broken love chords,
That echoed bits of panicled past.

Like a smile, unfading,
It sprinkled ceaseless joy,
And let me breathe,
Soothing streaks of poetry.

Now I’m breathing,
Yet again.

~Nila

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