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Poetry Corner 5-Jun-2005 At 12:05:23 PM Tav

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Ok, now that I've written this *&^#*$@% poem, maybe my mind will let me work. Enjoy, and I ther are no ulterlior meanings for those of us with sick minds. (now that's the pot calling the kettle black!)

"Why"
-Tavare Stevenson, 5/6/05

The Sun bludgeons me with its rays.
Extracting sweat from my skin like liquid splinters
Only to track pathways down my body.
Salt tears following the call of gravity and blind my sight.

My Body shrieks in pain and sings in joy.
A dichotomy of hatred and love, we two blend our strength
And draw it inwards.
A concentrate trickling to the core of my being.

The Rock comforts me with its stability.
Mothering me in the absence of my own blood
But reminds me that care dies.
Blood is the currency of memory and forget.

Torment, pain and risk are what call me.
Siren voices I know will murder those who plunge too deep.
But why fear that which can teach?
This, is why I climb.