Written Proof (Poetry)

I have nothing but paper to talk to
to soak up my worries and woes
nonjudgemental absorber of secrets
the dark place inside only knows

The ink is its own thin confessor
lets ugly and beauty abide
their contrast disturbingly human
they walk through my life side by side

Love harbours a stubborn denial
hate argues the fate I deserve
I cling to a wild song of freedom
that twangs every overstretched nerve

This cannot be all life is fit for
the struggle, the pain and the loss
old symbols and signs never answer
the whys of the kiss and the cross

I seek heart in the green of the valley
and faith in the sweep of the hill
my spirit is pagan by nature
the ache at its core throbbing still

Every question I have begs another
I feel out of my time and my race
where is hope of a true explanation
when doubt fills depression’s blank space?

While I wander the vastness of margins
and imagine my voice might persist
shedding light via wood’s preservation
this page the small proof I exist