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  • Tina Moore

Poetry by Gemma

Death's embrace


When you have touched death.

Through the passing of those you have loved.

There is never a way to not know after that moment.

Before, you could never grapple with the most final of goodbyes.

Before, the breaking down of innocence had not begun.

You will see the before and after, as the emergence of something.

A thing, tainted and torn, bruised and battered.

Embroiled amongst the damage, a bitter sweet wisdom.

For death awakens the need to embrace.

The need to live, for not living is everything you run from.


Transience


If eyes could see beyond.

Knowing that every time love was found, pain lurked, ever closer.

Knowing the transience, would we reach out time and time again?

Would our hearts break open, cracking in their vulnerability.

In the selling of our time, we exposed our fragility.

Music seeping in between the memories, notes bringing life to times gone by.

Lingering tastes of loss, conjuring pictures, beating pain.

If offered once more, would we buy that time again, unquestionably.

For memories cannot be bought, their value always known more in retrospect.


The song

Hit repeat, absorb all the music can reveal to you. Flowing, encompassing, conjuring emotion after emotion within. Searching for the meaning, the answer to so many questions. Where will the journey take you this time? Can you uncover that which you have sought. Will your purpose reveal itself, always holding that promise. A bleeding of sounds, powerful in their delivery. For this music beats your heart. It is the blood that flows. The beat, the voice, drumming your pain and joy.


Stealing time


The virus, stealing time.

You shook foundations, you stole time

Young and old facing snatched opportunities, to feel human.

Anger, bitterness, reside within, your comfort.

Imposed prisons, feeding fear on a drip to hungry minds.

Tested, forced to face a reality surreal.

The virus of broken dreams laid out on a bed of sorrow.

Stolen time, a world unrecognizable.

That is the gift you gave.

The gift we never wanted.


Guest article- Poetry by Gemma McHugh




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