Thursday, August 30, 2012


Sometimes I think back
Looking at blurry images
Faded shades of various kinds of black
Figments, pieces
Of past events
Fuzzy pictures
Coated in dust
I reach out
Dirt cakes my fingers at the touch
How could I find comfort
With a lack of any clarity
In this junkyard
I'm standing with this pulsating
I embrace it nonetheless
It may not seem beautiful to you
But it's the brightest kind of jewel
It's the strongest kind of tool
It's breathtaking
I hug my sweetest gift
The buzzing I hear it
All the past and it's dust messing with my spirit
I'm too concerned with my heart and the glorious bruises the gorgeous dents
I'm suddenly overtaken by the image of you
Only for a brief stint
I've never been so tempted
To reach out and feel for your fingerprints
My grip on my heart and all these gorgeous chambers
The darkness isn't overwhelming nor does it strike me with danger
Beauty in my fears
Beauty in my anger
Beauty in my tears
Beauty that couldn't be stranger

By me, Dinesha Johnson

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