Because maybe all I felt was cold hands
and the slow beat of my heart
as I call out the numbers
Which beat out like drums;the only voices which had not been silenced.
I wont lie the weight of the voices
is the drum beat to my numbness
Because maybe all I hope to be is
frozen finger tips, blue lips, bruised hips,
counting down the numbers.
I know you think its selfish
That I chose to traipse through darkness
But maybe the journey towards light
Can guide others to enlightment.
I don’t know why I feel safe in digits
That dignify this madness.
The warmth of souls breathing concern
Pulls me out like magnets.
Yet I cannot discern why in incandescent days
that hold me in such kindness
I’m still shaking of the numbers.