The Soul That Cried
The weight of a thousand Souls
hangs heavy on her breast.
As she desperately seeks out the sanity
of the turmoil that still smoulders.
Blighted by ruthless encounters of life
we try to call relationships.
She recoils and lurches back
from another angry outburst of pain.
The incessant grasp of weak and needy minds,
clutching at her Soul,
bears down hard and relentlessly
upon her guiltiness, built up of old.
How many times more must she rekindle
her depleted and waning life-force?
Just so she can bear the brunt of another runt
seeking to ease his pain.
She goes again inwards once more,
to that familiar place she’s been before.
But this time she is ready.
There’s something new; a light
starts slowly, to shine right through.
Her Soul, she calls from far and wide,
there is no place for the loss to hide.
For this time, was called and marked,
by God herself, before she embarked
– upon this journey of solitude.
Boxed by vicious rails of social conformity,
she epitomised the shock of an abandoned child.
Incessant questioning of Self
invites the shadowy specter
of mediocrity to rest beside her Soul.
Yet once more she stands strong, and hurls her
gauntlet forth into the seething mass of male strife.
Nothing moves. Nothing stirs. Everything stops!
For none dare challenge the keeper of her precious SOUL
Tony Dovale – Fiery Tiger