…call it SHIBBOLETH

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… See not that the world is black
As dark as the coal we burn
Demons arching within closed doors
Paranoia dominates in linen faces
The scent of peace is isolated in chaos
Where panicked voices cut through opacity
Torn souls say the mighty knights verse
Forever holding the broken septa
The drama says not the story
Nor does the storyteller bridge the gap
The silky face of innocence is calm
War never brings cool to burning chariot
The rested soul knows all the secrets
Telling tales of ambiguity and disillusionment
See through the act of a shrew
The words spoken are forever like dust
Scattered on earth like sands of the field
After all the vain choices
The soul of man still remains naked
Waiting for the call of redemption.

©2016. Ruth Brodrick

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Author: I- read

This is a free blog aimed at watering poetic minds and quenching the thirst of readers. My passion for words commemorates the desires to speak the truth, interplay with emotions and voice the fights in troubled souls. Welcome to i-read..

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