What a relief.

What a relief.

Stay the restless heart

Still the urge to run

Disappearance

Is not an answer

To questions that

Lie within

The partition of self

Table a motion of censure

Cross the floor

In high dudgeon

Seek a moral victory

Equal to the task

When capitulation

Seems to come too easily

Closed doors

Bring more than isolation

Broken silence

Is a torment

Divorced from context

The world is of abstract design

Universal markers

Misunderstood

Social language

An impenetrable barrier

Carry the fight

Even as the weight of submission

Is a lighter load to bear

When the redemptive path

Is overgrown

Fear not the bramble

The bloodied thorn

A nettle’s sting

Is a troublesome irritation

But soon forgotten

In the maelstrom

Of life

Dock leaves are a salve

Mayhap a muddied conscience

Needs more than

A rough guide

Reach out

Even in the blind

There is chance to find

A helping hand

If you accept that

What is found

Can be

As wholly lost as you.