Peter Gracey

Citizen Of A Hypomanic Mind Peter Gracey

I AMBy Peter GraceyDelicate and pathetic you are, in the eyes of those who take advantage of your weakness. Gentle and kind you were, but your love overshadowed the translation of fear. You cried for help and no one heard, You cried out for mercy, but the frequency of your voice was blurred. You shouted with all your heart in silence, And tears followed through like a desert begging for a single mist. Your physical wounds are easily repaired, but your emotional scars can never be reestablished. Who can reinstate the passionate you?Who can restore your scars with fervent adoration?Where did your self-esteem go?And who can dry your internal tears?Who can hear your lonely cries at night?And who can rescue your hopeless mentions?Despairing and depressed when you remembered the screams and the wailing of your soul; But in you my sister, there is something that was lost and has never been told. It's that Pandora box of strength that you pull from deep within your womb, And come to significant terms with self that your past must never, and can never be exhumed. All is in control now and you smile when you reminisce the scars, You're seen as a resistor, and you are the great I AM by far. You now say to yourself; I am the strongest one!You now say to yourself; I am the control of my world - I am a strong woman. You now say to yourself, I am the giver of life. Enduring that bitter hatred, so I can teach a better life. I am the full circle, I have the power to nurture, I am power to create and navigate myself to a better and more contented future. Stronger than before and I am the challenger of the world through my eyes, I am the great forgiver of sins and no more you'll see me cry. I am the strongest creation. No more will you see me cry!I am love. I am resilient. I am woman!Music of the NightBy Peter GraceySplendor of the night in silence thought, Swaying light in the summer's wind. They dream of things I have yet naught, The sounds of peace I bring. High pitched, on key, music to some, A sudden report! It's ceased. To you my dear may be delight, Another may seem unpleased. Antennae up the director's stand, And wait for a silent night. The band of others stalks their prey, While some predicts their plight. Silence if you will, the curtains are up, To those I can't command. The audience awaits the heavens so bright, To go off in wonderland. Sit and await a building's touch, The lights are finally out. The music prepared but nothing's planned, A melody without a mouth. On a simple green piece I call my space, The audience asleep at last. I play the music of the night, A cricket on a blade of grass. Shadow in The DoorwayBy Peter GraceyA shadow in the doorway stared at meNo thoughts of what to doMyself and I stared backOnly two of them had no clue. If I moved, we all didSomething wasn't rightWhy is there a shadowWithout the presence of light?. If the shadow movedMyself would tooBut I thought it was alrightMyself knew not IBut the sh