Burial Elements
A bowl to catch my blood.
A box to hold the remains,
all neatly packed away
awaiting forgiveness
that may never come,
and a resurrection
that will.
About this poem
When people batter me (emotionally, and yes, a few still do), I still bleed. I still suffer. But I guess I have finally hit grown up status. I let the pain go to the appropriate places, and wait for the healing.
Which always comes.
Gratefully,
Tom
Quarry House 
You know this one’s getting saved for a calligraphic day
Beautiful Tom. Its amazing to me, how we grow, continually. I used to think there was a point where that was all finished and we could just live. Now, I understand why that isn’t so. Gratefully.
A poem with wise ideas, Tom 😉