12/20/2023
I speak of love as if I know it exists,
But I've yet to know this feeling of fulfilment.
I could scream into the abyss and be unsure of a reply,
As I tempt the demons of the lower tree, Encouraged by my emptiness.
My soul is ravaged by discontent,
My heart is a broken glass cup, patched up and glued together with promises that have no intention of being kept.
The wilderness knows my name
And whispers it's welcome,
Coaxing me to leave the light
And enter darkness.
Somewhere, faintly, I hear him calling to me.
Somewhere across the wind and clouds.
He, speaking in hushed tones,
Speaking in tongues,
He tells me he is looking for Venus.
He knows all of my titles.
He knows my scent.
And in those moments of hearing him
I am given peace.
For a while, I am at rest.
And I choose to close the lid,
To keep hope within the box
And not set the world on fire.
-Helen Demetriou
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