“I don’t feel pain,
I don’t feel alive,
yet no angels
in the bright moonshine.”
The lady of sorrow confided
to herself aloud in a whisper.
One so delicate, it could vanish
like flying dust should she be loud.
But she was standing stoically
at the edge of the seaside cliff…
It was dusk, and the blood-red sky
bled out across the hellish heavens.
“I am ready to live without sorrows,”
she raised her voice to the breeze.
“I am ready to plunder my body
into the depths of this heavenly sea.”
As strands of her raven hair swayed,
the lady of sorrow outstretched her arms
like the crucified Christ, embracing
the depths below and rejecting ascension.
Pretty cool, Daniel. I like the visions that it creates easily for the reader. With an artistic flair of course.
The opening lines set a fragile, haunting mood that carries through the poem beautifully.