RSS Feeds

Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

The Journal

Yesterday I opened the journal
of myself and said,
Oh…! oh…, oh…,
as if light coming out of total darkness
scorched my eyes.
As though the wind
had broken through the rafters,
and something echoed
through the roof.
A song I had never heard.
A voice that struggled to be free,
to be loved,
to go out into the sky
and dissolve in silence.

That is what I read in the journal,
in its poems,
in the words that someone uttered,
who dared for a moment
to write a rain song,
a red lament,
confront the sweetness
and death of their life.
Saying things familiar,
oh so familiar.
Can anyone explain their soul?
I can not,
and those who deny their soul,
kill themselves,
and can not be believed.

Leave a Reply