For A Day... Just! Poem by Clemence Wega

In the middle is a jungle of thoughts
A collection of serious confusion and sting,
Right in this grumbling bursting head
Is a brain that shakes from vibrations of loss,
A lamenting sorrowful heart which only grace can save.

If only this tray would be empty and full of relief
And refreshed from the pains and aches of a kind
which can only be called matters of the deep?
If only, Just for a day,
then I would survive for a song.

You see this head suffers no pain!
Neither does it offer sorrow any shelter,
But the middle of my chest is a thousand razor cuts;
a bare wound rubbed in sand, a wish clothed in leg irons.

If this agony would be washed, and cleaned clean
And confusion smoked out by the breath of a new life
This yoke, just for a day, if only it would lift
Then my Mother would smile and ululate
And I would live for another rain drop

Just for a day my Lord, a day just;
then I would live to see a falling star!