Wind ripples a liquid surface,
Changing what one can only see on the surface.
But just beneath that change, a swiftly moving current pushes ever forward,
Heedless of the billowing rebuttal.
Where sunlight streams and warms the face,
Only a few rays filter through the gloom.
It is the deep, where darkness presses in,
Lies a double-edged sword sheathed in silence.
The poems this month have a very personal touch as each one was crafted silently by the bedside of a dying patient. This poem is part of a larger collection highlighting my personal experience working in the healthcare field. if you’d like to read more follow the link here.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.