My soul cries for the fear,
for the pain,
You prick the wounds of my heart
still waiting to be healed.
My mind screams to be left alone,
not wanting to chance her heart again.
in the slumbering depths,
hope waits to be kissed.
She ~ yearns to move beyond
the screams of her soul ~
She ~ sits up from her slumber
knowing something ~
is nudging her awake,
She ~ notices,
yet, wants to sleep,
Find more poetry at the MockingOwl Roost, from contributors and staff from across the globe.
Cyndi (she/her) is the mama of two grown children and Oma to eight grandchildren, all of whom she adores. She’s a biker chick with a lady’s heart and thirty-nine tattoos that tell some of her life story. Not just a cancer survivor, she’s a life thriver. She also loves painting, and finds the process similar to solving math equations. She has been a writer/poet since the age of nine, her first poem being about God’s Hands. She wrote for Christian Biker Magazine for five years.
You can follow her on Facebook for more inspiration on a regular basis. Email her at: firstname.lastname@example.org