by march

a poem about dread ; poetry #5

By March

I received a sunny neverland’s pledge,

ice breaking and bosoms blooming.

I listened to the world allege

stolen kisses, time-consuming,

a mother feeding her children in the nest.

I was given a sandglass

pointing at a sky in all shades of blue dressed,

at a mountain range of the smell of fresh grass,

at a lamb reborn and protected,

at things once lost and now manifested again.

I was given dreams and dreams I’ve collected

where I’d walk up to the heavenly reign

and there, watch God linger.

I was given dreams

where I’d just move one finger

and it’d all start shining in golden beams.

But it’s March,

and it’s more cold inside of me than outside.

It’s March,

and my mother has rejected me when I cried.

It’s March,

and the colors are still the same

and the mountains are far away

and the lamb gets killed by the blame

and what’s been lost stays lost at bay.

I stumble on the stairs

and find my own shadow, instead,

I move my entire soul and ask myself if God cares

and I’m still stuck here in the dread,

in March.