STORIES
Do I remember to grieve,
For all the times I lost me,
In search parties I headed,
Looking for the living?
Every time I denied myself,
The freedom of my humanity,
Put my burden on a shelf,
And let it gather dust.
As a mirror fades,
So too does the reflection,
And it is hard to tell from the shell,
That it is the same face staring back,
So came age, so came its cage,
So it keeps coming,
But it only leaves its bags,
Never takes anything back,
Dreams seem to promise hope,
But never give the net to catch it,
Still, I shall reach out my hand,
Feeble as it may now be,
Place it in my palm, place it
All the love I tallied in days,
Allow me the grace,
To take some for self,
Allow me all the lessons,
Lather them down into my skin,
So I may glow in all my years,
Learning to love outside me,
May I find in this a strength,
To once again turn to the shelf,
Bring down my burdens, unpack them,
And one day line them up like stories.
~Frankhie
