Ps.25 I catch your breath

Tangled in this forest of shame.
Snared in the hunters trap I laid.
Limping, lost, and wrecked by my own self.
I trusted once.
I turned my gaze to the trumpet sound of their victory.
Deafened myself as I drew too near to feel vibrations of their hope.
There was no hope. Just voluminous hate sound.
And I am deafened to silence.
With just ringing in my ears.
Whistle of pain that courses to my heart.
If a tree fell I wouldn’t hear.
I wonder am I here at all.
Branches crash around to my destruction, covering paths once known.
I have wandered so long; remembering from where I came falls too.
To where I journeyed before distraction is gone?
You will not forget me.
But even that has nearly slipped from mind as I slip. Trip. Stumble. Fall.
I cannot hear your voice.
I cannot remember your name.
The forest closes in around as darkness saturates the image of my hope.
Your face falls blackened.
This day; was mine, is finished.
This land was mine.
I think.
I cannot tell.Your promise fades in my recall,
I turn alone.
Alone, I hear a footstep. The sound becomes an army of repetition steps.
The circles of my wandering is joined in footsteps and the mutterings of angry men.
The fierce sound surrounds me.
I stand caught.
Hope strangled from my breath.

I gasp one final time.

I catch a breath … of possibility.

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