My Soul

By Pedro R.C. Silva 

So when we left him,

My soul on the cliff.

The weight of burdens

The sight of barriers

Past and future

Lifted off my skin.

To do all

Without morality.

At first a gift

And then

A burden in itself.

Seeing the hurt,

Huddled in the room,

With heavy blood,

With black and blue eyes.

Not knowing why

They weep

At the cliff,

I revisit

To get back myself,

I find nothing.

My breathing halts

No trace no whisper

Of the soul that was.

I look over and below

To see the shadows

The rags and splinters

On the ragged rocks.

©2014 - Pedro R.C.  Silva - All rights reserved