Ode to an Echo
When the damned, so forlorn,
Sing in melancholy grace,
With voices of angels
And souls made hollow,
I float in the score
Of the scars it portrays.
Suspended and cradled,
Held softly in sorrow.
Surround me in beautiful,
tortured abandon.
I ask not for strength
In my hour of need.
Here in this crucible
I find understanding.
At home in a space
I can safely be weak.
Sing in melancholy grace,
With voices of angels
And souls made hollow,
I float in the score
Of the scars it portrays.
Suspended and cradled,
Held softly in sorrow.
Surround me in beautiful,
tortured abandon.
I ask not for strength
In my hour of need.
Here in this crucible
I find understanding.
At home in a space
I can safely be weak.
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