Across the river's flow,
we lead separate, distant lives.
Never breaching our safe zones.
Forever strangers we remain.
Unimaginable destinies, disconnected from reality,
living behind the barbed wire,
heads crowned with thorns.
A boulevard of sorrow,
strewn with fallen leaves.
Memories of a chilling autumn,
a time when we'd lost
our final shred of grace.
We must rest now.
Lost in our separate dreams,
drifting towards eternity,
formless and scentless.
Where innovation's potential dies,
choked by minds
too small to embrace it.
Unable to move on, hands free,
from the greatest gift we crave.
Peace of mind, a prize won
at a cost we can't afford.
*
To my mother
---
Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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Comments (5)
I liked your poem . Congratulations on your top story, and hope you enjoy my stories abd i will be very happy if you subscribe me ❤️
Such a poignant and moving poem—the imagery of distance and sorrow really lingers. Beautifully written.
This is so haunting and tender. Congrats on Top Story.
Sensational writing!
I love the way you describe the two distinct types of lives that people live on either side of a divide. It's very well written. Congrats on Top Story!