He does not know

He does not know
He crouches by the flames with hope
That warmth might bar the way from fear
And yet the other people crowd
And far away the people jeer
He does not know
The man; now fear is pulsing
Like a drug within his veins
And the drive to live remains
(But what a life is left?)

The self is still too strong inside:
The little things he links to love,
The things he thinks he can’t give up
In that distended time of fear
With swollen hands he clings to life
He does not know the man

And now the self deflates with hate
He hears the crow and loathes the self.
Usurped the throne of love has fear
And fear will be his fate.

Despite a fate deserved and just,
A voice is rising from what was:
Another voice that says, Forgive,
He knows not what he does

One comment

  • My goodness Jenny- what a beautiful poem !! You are an absolutely brilliant writer- what an incredible gift you have – thank you so much for what you give to us in the sharing..
    Karen

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