Blessed Curse Poem by Beth Culley

My blessing is a blessing
But with it comes a curse
For I feel the world intensely
But can’t give the feeling birth.

Pregnant with thought my mind swells,
No expression will induce.
Plump, sweet and ripe my thoughts dwell
But they will not be shook loose.

I see such awesome wonders
Until my heart it aches,
It wrenches to tell others,
It contorts until it breaks.

Silently my spirit hears
Of things secret and strange,
Of mysteries so dear,
Only their essence remains.

I seem to catch a perfume,
A lingering on and on.
Odd reminiscences loom,
After the wearer is gone.

A wave, vague and alluding,
Is sensed thoughout my soul,
It seeps into my being,
It seizes and grabs hold.

Dabbled paint nor finest sketch
Bring forth the sacred tide.
Melodic song and penned verse
Fail to release the blessed curse.

Every attempt
painfully vain
Every thought
mimicked
Every phrase
the same

The fairy lanterns on the tree will only live in memory