Category: empathic

If people knew what they leak.

If people could see what they leak,
the way their emotions flow through
the atmosphere. The tears they
refuse to cry.
The lies.
The pain they lock away for
a darker day.
It all leaks.
It skips across the breath of some,
dances through the mind of others.
Seeps into me.
If people could hear what their eyes say,
what the pause between their words tells me.
If people knew what they leak.
The excitement that flutters in my stomach with an unknown cause,
The heart that breaks over and over,
pain caught in my throat.
The fear, oh the fear that fills our souls that seeps from the psych invisible to
the naked eye.
If people knew what they leak.
They’d understand why I seek solitude,
why my mind is so very open
to the possibilities.
If people knew what they leak they would know why it is I am open and closed in a single heart beat.

Karen Hayward © 2016.

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Universal electrons electrified in a catalyst of hope.

Whispers in the breeze of yesterdays thoughts
I dream of a sanity that I have often sought.
As I look to the skies for the light that shines north
and I think of the beauty left uncaught.
I dream of a day where humanity goes forth,
where loneliness is felt no more
and poverty is no longer a disease of the poor.
All this in the whisper of a breeze along the shore,
a knowing that I will one day arrive at that door.

Karen Hayward ©2015.

Through the storm.

Crumbling walls fall down upon my broken wings.
Crimson tears stain my porcelain skin,
so many battles,
I cannot win.
The darkness dances through the shadows
Unseen
Untouched,
Scraping his claws across my flesh,
Breathing fire into my soul,
Tearing away my floral dress.
The walls are closing in,
I no longer sing,
The sky is turning scarlet red,
As reality creates a vortex,
Inside my muddled head.
And suddenly,
It’s clear as day,
all the things I want to say.

Rays of light escaping through broken branches.

Orange rays of light escaping through the broken branches

as the howling wind brings rain clouds marching.

The leaves sparkle in glistening delight

and the sun whispers a stubborn goodnight.

Droplets of rain cloud my view,

a thousand sunsets and this ones new.

A sky alive with soured milk,

clouds so soft they look like silk.

Pushing through and pushing past,

the halo of light cannot last.

So for now I will sit and see,

and for a moment,

know,

that I am free.

Listen.

Shhh listen to the breeze that rushes through the trees.

Hear the sound of the earth, as she giggles in mirth.

Feel the fire of passion from the flaming sun

and the diamond sprinkles from the earths mum.

Watch as the moon disappears all too soon.

See the stars that are gone, dead for so long.

Watch the bloom that does flower,

a tiny Bee has that power.

Feel the tides as they move in time with the moon.

Hear the wings of the flies,  dragons that fill the skies,

of the birds that sing a tune of no words,

and the flies of the butter, that create such a flutter.

Hear the rain as she drops, don’t ask her to stop.

Feel the roar of skies, watch it pass by,

as the lightening strikes the invisible kites.

Feel the world in your heart, stop watching take part.

Hear the songs of the small, watch the flowers have a ball,

feel the bugs as they climb the magnificent wall.

Feel the clouds on your skin, you can be King,

hear the world sing, of the love it can bring.

Karen Hayward (c) 2015.

The lonely path.

How i’ve longed to love you so,

for days to pass, to come and go.

How i’ve wished away the stars,

to keep myself upon this path.

Silent words to the universe,

promised wishes and muttered curse.

But never did you see me so,

and now my love, I must go.

The end has come,

for this lonely show.

Karen Hayward (Copyright 2015.)

The Broken girl behind stained glass.

If I close my eyes just long enough,

I can pretend.

I can forget.

I can wander, in the safety of

my dreams,

whilst my inner child screams.

I can feel strong, in this

world, so full of wrong.

There, in my world of love and

happy thoughts,

I cannot hear the silence,

you have so fondly sought.

I cannot be the piercing eyes,

that constantly wonder,

why, oh why.

Behind the doors of this

broken world,

I am not,

the broken girl.