Murmurs Of The Rainy Mind... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the shadows of my
mind

need not be
the shadows of my
body

the spirit longs for
more
of its much needed
solitude

in crisis
it states what it has long
desired

that which the body
keeps on denying

genuflecting knees
hitting hands
bloody backs
worn feet
torn palms
broken limbs

the words come out
much different from a
thirsty mouth

it is not the word
it is the act that tells you more

it is what is done
it is not what is said

there is a house in that far mountain
it rests upon its feet

no one lives there
a stranger cloud sometimes comes a drifting

it sees the emptiness of the surrounding
the humid bedroom it feels though from a distance

and just like the rest who knows
they take refuge in the silence

words are never to be trusted
it is merely the sigh of the falling rain

sometimes you hear the tapping of the rain inside your mind
and you look outside

there the sun shows you
what sometimes are illogical