Soul to the Moonlight

   

Can you see it Dwelling within my soul That silent memory Hurting me internally And as I see it There trembling in its mystery I walk slowly And touch it, it burns me With a deep intensity that I run That I cry, and do not return And chose to forget its mystery And I sit down, with the flowerpots behind me And stir my teacup in the shadowed sunlight Many years later And notice my hand shaking It is the memory Resurfacing, just as I stir my tea And I forget And then as I plant the flower The following spring In the pots, the hot sun Causing beads of sweat on my forehead I notice my breath is gone Not because of the weather But the silent memory And as I watch the tv, I realise The memory does not go The memory will return And the only way to resolve it Is to show its Soul to the moonlight. Don't run from it, turn and face it.