Windwhipped Whispers

The silence is deafening.
Its sharp edges cut into my flesh

Digging for that last bit of hope
In hopes to crush it.
To bleed it out

Kill the last light inside.
Its mission resides.

Night graces my wounds with a dull pain.
The claws of death still searching

Searching for the only star left in the sky.
The sun soaring high.

Out of the silence
from the sharp twisted pains

Comes a whisper
Efforts not in vain.
It is heard.
And listened to well.

It pierces through the pain
Purges fires out of hell

And the wounds are closed up
Lifted out of the spell.

The sun kisses my face
And I know to be true

The angels are here;
for me and for you.