Silent Grace

A Poem by N E. Chase

A bit of dark writing therapy

I hear the voices singing
Their melancholy song
Fill my eyes with darkened dreams
My soul does not belong

This land of sharded memories
Cuts through my flesh like ice
To bleed through broken promises
To live through shrouded lies

Discarded wishing wells go dry
The tree of life is bare
The dancing children cloaked in grey
Blank is their taunting stare

Their arms stretched out in welcome
The lure of silent grace
Pureness of absolution
The truth to their embrace