A bitter silent pain
Eats me every single
Day when smiling
Serpents hide in the
Little house I build
To shrink my soul.

They blind the moon,
Killing the beauty I can’t
Understand or see as
I search for answers
Which may not be.
Inside my house, there is
Only shame and cruelty.

My stained soul is nothing
But a speechless sorrow.
I carry it as an incantation,
A lovely load. It is my perfect 
Symbol of today and tomorrow.
When my world I do implode.

Karla Bardanza 

1 comment:

  1. I think this is the most sensative of all your poems you have written to date. We all have something deep inside us that is so injured, stained that we and we alone can understand it. We carry it for it is permanently a part of ourselves. I think every woman can relate to this poem in one way or another. Beautiful.... my flower... beautiful! EXALT!!!