Copyright © Focus Poem  2015 | All Rights Reserved

The Resentments of our History,

so vivid, explicit, so real...

yet not.


We can still feel the shots fired so long ago,

the wound still as fresh as a new flake of snow.

That ice hidden in a freezer, not allowed to melt,

causing the cost of life.


May it be your own or others which you affect,

it still shortens,

speeding and slowing until it becomes confused.

Trying to grasp the issues of mist.


Meanwhile they're hidden deep within.

Bundled in bundles of every size and form,

complicated knots unable to be untide by sight.


The only way being able to feel,

through the dark you must find your way,

away from others who try to see others

through the pitch black yet you trust them,

when you should trust yourself

through your feeling you'll discover the rest,

putting the troubles from your past to bed.


Tightened feelings and loosend sleeping.

Allowing it to go to bed so that you may rest.

The price of peace which you've long deserved,

finally found within the eye of your own I.


The (I) eye not seen by others

as they can understand their I,

let alone see yours, as it is hidden by you,

the you stopping them from seeing,

that yours is now ours or the you hidden between the or,

those whom don't see it always staying poor.


Open your eye and let your bird fly free for our sake, your sake, His sake and thee sake of men.

Amen.

Resentments of our History

Author - Jonathan Avis

Focus Poems... Real Stories

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