Tag: emotions

Tears

Published on by Sarah DruryLeave a comment

Tears


Don’t want to write
A sad poem,
But my eyes
Refuse to cooperate
With my
Polite smile
And weather worn
Bravado.


Feelings are seeping out
Of closets
Where I thought
I had sealed doors with
Art and beautiful music.
Thinking I had grown beyond
The tears.
But I hadn’t.
And haven’t.


I saw a homeless man
Yesterday.
His face a map of pain
And dejection.
And today the black girl
On TV,
With eyes that
Sold a charity,
And broke me.
And my tears feel like
Insignificance.
Like a first world indulgence.
Privilege.
But I miss you.

Sarah Drury, March 2021

My Heart

Published on by Sarah DruryLeave a comment

Ten years
Has my heart been
Slumbering in beds of
Somnolent roses.
All pink and dewy and tender,
And half asleep.
I didn’t intend to nap
For so long,
But the peace was
Heaven, and
Why wake when
Dreams paint such
Sweet, pastel visuals
On my iniquity?

If I see through my heart,
Then there are
No shadows.
Only the softest
Of glimmers
From a moonlit
Sea of
Ethereal emotions.
And if I hear?
Then dissonance
Has no hope amidst the
Resounding clamour
Of clandestine whispers.

And if I feel?
Then I reign with Neptune
In the realm
Of the ocean,
And my senses are
My promise and
My passions are
A premise

And
My heart
Is a gift.

Sarah Drury 2021

Easy

Published on by Sarah DruryLeave a comment

It is not easy
being so sentient
in an anaesthetised world.
I try and fold my feelings
into little origami ships.
Hope they will sail
nonchalantly into
a world where
life doesn’t sting,
anymore.

I can pretend it
doesn’t hurt.
Pretend I have a
heart of polished granite.
I can pretend that feelings
must only feel like
fireworks in the
new year’s sky.
That to feel is
to loiter somewhere
on a permanent,
spiritual high.

But I know
to be real
I need to feel
the stain
of salt kissed tears.
To sing the pain
as it washes through;
it never stays.
And I know I am there,
sometimes.
Origami ships are fragile,
and my skin is like
tissue paper,
and I absorb
the world at times.
And it can be too much.
Sometimes.

But,
it never stays.

Sarah Drury. 2021