Fell through a
thousand suns
into an abyss
of grinding
darkness
suppressed and forced
to stand up,
or die
what is this place?
a genesis,
a sprouting
up of
creation
claiming my own power,
my own will,
my own essence
of humming
core
energy
rooted in freedom,
the soul is,
as delicate as a dove
and cannot be
contended with
listen to her,
listen to her,
listen to her
By IrieSide, ©2023
Very intense poem. It’s a great reminder to “listen.”
Thank you!
Thanks for reading! I am glad you found it as a great reminder.