Linela's Poetry Book

[Tiberis79]

*An entry from when she was very young and still under the care of a physician for an unknown blood disorder*

All of life's pains and pleasures come together and there is no reason why.
My brothers gathered seconds ago under this grand, four posted canopy,
animating paper dragons who, in a breath, crystalized with our joy,
and they hang in the air like a promise.

Hope is the mistery we cling to, believing balance favors good.
In this bitter moment I search for the meaning and some greater purpose,
but the rude interruption of sharp pain binds me, sinking in and holding,
and my paper dragons just stare.

It is natural to seek a purpose for each cold, wretched span of time.
To try to explain away why some seem chosen to soak in loneliness,
and to justify all that lacks in our fleeting chaotic existence.
But it just is, it always was.

The truth is life is wonderful and warm. Life is cold and unrelenting.
It offers no promise and no apology. We are here to live it.
So I am sat bleeding for their curiosity; A puzzle unsolved,
but the answers never come.

Because life's pains and pleasures come together and there is no reason why.

[Tiberis79]

*A lament of young Linela, watching from her windowsill as she spent most of her life in a singular room*

Light's brilliant song streams in golden rays,
A luminous path is made to my favorite perch.

Beyond two grand, locked panes is a story,
A local blacksmith is unloading his wares.

With him a doting and handsome young boy,
His nubby arms struggle to be proven.

One day they will carry the crates...
One day they will be as strong...

It's time again for the bleeding to begin,
Bled to show I've no blood to spare.

Brown locks gone white so long ago,
I can't remember... Were they really brown?

Then more bone jelly, spinach, and liver...
I hate bone jelly, spinach, and liver...

But eat I must to hope for one more day,
And whatever one day buys me.

I steal one last glance at the story,
A young prince upon his father's shoulders.

The blacksmith is sure, steady, a good man,
And he will shape his son in his image.

They seem warm, simple, and happy...
They seem alive, in love, and free...

I catch myself smiling at the beauty of it,
Even as cold tears track over my cheeks.

I freeze this perfect and brief infinity,
Storing it away like so many others.

Life is there... It's all right there...
Just beyond the glass...