I listen to the sound of soul rain
whispering through my heart...
A torrent placed to fill and to nurture
this inner garden, the place inside
of me where my dreams are made.
I no longer pine for the spirit
that is you, there is nothing I could do
to help you heal...you cannot be real.
I had so hoped to meet you
in that place of peace on the inside;
where we all hide ourselves
from the view of those who consider
heartache an inherent weakness
throughout mankind.
I did my time - and now it is upon me
to put away the pain, to have Faith
and to believe Love will come again
and fill this garden in my heart
with blossoms fit for the envy of spring.
And yes, my heart will learn to sing
a new song, a song whose echo
will return to me from the vales
and the mountains that rest within
this weathered core.
There will be no more tears
as I travel down the years from you;
There will be no more sorrow when
I look at you missing from the tomorrow
of my heart; no more dark.
My love has been mended from
the neglect and lack of care of spirit soil...
There is nothing left within me
save the tainted ground of the
memories, which I take with me,
of the ghost pieces found
inside such a lonely love.

© 2004, Deborah L. Kelly