Agony Of Truth I Sing

Agony Of Truth I Sing
© Surazeus
2024 04 26

With agony of hope stuck in my throat 
I interpret riddles of silent rain 
that reveal sad strangeness of growing old 
far from bright valley of my spirit birth 
where birds still contest over space in trees 
with songs too beautiful for me to sing. 

Remaining with me over centuries 
of exploration beyond far hills of mist, 
their cheerful songs of territorial lust 
frame how my mind perceives social events 
contrived by proud mavens of thought control 
where I feed ideology through hope. 

If I have traveled far enough away 
from familiar venue of youth home life 
I may not feel as sharp the pain of loss 
when people of my family I respect 
pass from this world into blank nothingness 
so grief my mother felt would not be mine. 

When she was struck with agonizing grief, 
after her mother and my father died, 
my heart was blasted with heat of her pain 
so I had to walk way from despair 
and travel far from valley of my birth 
to find safe haven of protective faith. 

No more stuck in strict dutiful routine, 
performing rituals of survival day 
after day to evade anguish of death, 
I roam with freedom from accomplishment 
through indolent curiosity to research 
strange beauty of this world outside my mind. 

Wandering in ruins of abbey stone walls 
to gather berries and nuts for lone meal 
in grove of trees where birds discuss desire, 
I pursue self-communion with my soul 
through mighty heart of transcendental mood, 
till I mitigate misery of my mind. 

With pensive restlessness of silent faith, 
which I design from patterns of sunlight, 
I make deserted wood my lonesome home 
while wounds of sorrow festering in my heart 
are healed by beauty of birth and decay 
that fuel sweet aura through my solitude. 

Alone in oneness of Nature and Death, 
I no longer need to identify 
myself as white female of Scottish blood, 
for now in wildness of high rugged hills 
I am but human struggling to survive 
by savoring agony of truth I sing.