Blessed Coffin

Down a prison of tears with loads of pain chained

Nothing but the darkness of fears, nothing in nothing remained

Memories bleed…wither beds of roses

No more does life proceed when dies faith in Moses

And mine’s got its final judgment: Execution

Stabbed on March was never an illusion

“Sleeping Beauty” painting by Thomas Ralph Spence

What’s harder than death is naked-living dead

Execute his beats from my depth, erase his touch from my red

Let the heart master its own beat

Let the steps master their own feet

Erase me like silliness from wisdom

Send me back a princess to my kingdom

Steal my life then, but now forbid my suicide

Come back to me Lord, sleep deep inside

So like a bride in pride, I walk to my last sleep

And in peace to immortal peace I’ll be wed, and you stay in deep

Out of your kingdom, golden castles are nothing but ashes

Blow in me then blow me like ashes

Dress me a coffin then in Devil’s grave ask me to lie

Me beneath your blessed coffin will live, and the Devil will die…


23 thoughts on “Blessed Coffin

  1. You write from experience, from the depths of your soul, haunted by a moment of decision turned into indecision. Always the questions will remain, when the truth is the choice was only yours to make, and there is no consequence when it was your right to choose ….

    • it’s true…when we’ve got the right to choose, whatever that happens later is a truth that we should accept for there’ll be no one to blame…
      &thanks for reading me & my thoughts:)

      • there is no blame, and those who wait know there will be another time … you are blessed by having a heart that feels so deeply. A quick story – Two monks were taking a pilgrimage together. They came to a river and a woman was there needing to cross, but full of fear for the rushing water. Although their sect did not allow any contact with women, one of the Monks offered to carry her across on his back, to which she graciously accepted. When they all reached the other side, the woman bade them farewell, and the Monks continued their journey and walked in silence for a long while. Finally the Monk who refused to help at the river stopped and said aloud “I can’t believe you broke your vow, and carried that woman across the river.” The other Monk answered quietly “My friend, it seems I put that woman down many miles ago, but you have been carrying her all this way.”

  2. Down a prison of tears. so evocative, so true,. In my life I cried so many tears, I no longer have any left. What hurts is that I was crying for my inner child who was dying not any man who was lying Thank you aloha

    • Tears are like streams ever-renewing; they are set on the mission of washing pain away; I hope none would be out of them but I pray at the same that we shed the least possible..
      &as I said through my lines earlier over your post;no man deserves an atom of your crystal..
      I’ve shed rivers for a childhood I had never tasted,yet I see now that I can live it through my beloved nieces&nephews so I’m satisfied&I’ll stay 18 till I die in my soul only, offcourse:)

  3. Bows for the supreme faith in:
    “Dress me a coffin then in Devil’s grave ask me to lie
    Me beneath your blessed coffin will live, and the Devil will die…”

"Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought & the thought has found its words"; I know mine's make no sun shines, but....YOU can tell better!

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