Breathless in Sorrow

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Breathless...

By Tony DeLorger © 2014


Deserted by my usual demeanour,

my heart lay still,

drawing out that pause between breaths,

into a long receding lapse of life,

fading to expire under the weight,

the very oppression of thoughts.


But my heart beats on,

its own will prevailing, even stoic,

and I, immersed in the troubled world,

destiny despised and loathsome,

bare witness to my own unravelling,

the slow and tedious realisation,

that what's to come is far beyond my control.


I bask in a litany of my past beliefs,

somehow hoping to draw courage from convictions,

even if proved invalid, fanciful,

just to experience once more that blissful ignorance,

that warm sense of abandon, security in outcome,

and a heart swollen with the blood of faith.


But this is a transgression of reality,

a step to the left, barely seeing the periphery,

and in denial, toying with my own mind,

torn between a righteous world and what is real,

what will come to all of us, regardless,

with no saviour in sight.


Abrupt, my changing views,

yet denial is no worthy ally,

counter-productive and often the bringer of false hope,

and I, tear laden, fall to a reality far from wanted,

but in perspective, in honesty, it can't end well,

regardless of all the plays of interest and deed.


In my heart I can only be,

who I am, and adhere to what I believe to be right,

and in that, I can survive life and beyond,

despite the will and intentions of others in power,

and those who would take all from the likes of me,

for their own glory and superiority.


I ware a bruised heart,

still amazed at the decimation of potential,

the beauty that could instil hope in life,

and the love that can transcend all worlds,

all souls in the infinite cosmos,

regardless of any other intention.


More by this Author


8 comments

Tony DeLorger profile image

Tony DeLorger 2 years ago from Adelaide, South Australia Author

The greatest tool of a writer is pain, and indeed many creative people suffer in life, being so sensitive and often struggling with depression. This gives us a broader perspective and understanding of the human condition. All this and the ability to impart these feelings makes us who we are. Take care.


Jane Arden 2 years ago

I can believe it. We only have to look at the likes of ones like Amy Winehouse. Some of her best music is when she was at her worse emotionally.


Tony DeLorger profile image

Tony DeLorger 2 years ago from Adelaide, South Australia Author

Thanks Jane. Deep emotion is the catalyst for any kind of creative expression, regardless of what kind of emotion. Many years ago I started writing song lyrics, and the more miserable, or madly in love, the better the work. No more teenage angst, but the same applies today. Glad you enjoyed it.


Tony DeLorger profile image

Tony DeLorger 2 years ago from Adelaide, South Australia Author

Thanks Ryem, so glad you related. Appreciate you stopping by and taking the time to comment.


Jane Arden 2 years ago

Such a sad poem. Why do we create out best work when we're sad. (No saviour in sight!) Life is but for a fleeting moment. Voted up and awesome.


Ryem profile image

Ryem 2 years ago from Maryland

I held on to every word and every bit of pain in this poem is relatable, there's a beautiful message here. Thanks for sharing.


Tony DeLorger profile image

Tony DeLorger 2 years ago from Adelaide, South Australia Author

I certainly understand your point, but despair, regardless of origin, is a valid subject matter and expression through creative writing. It is not until we reach these seemingly emotional impasses, that the lessons of hope and outcome are delivered. I am no more lost within despair, that lost in a Hollywood movie, and I assure you my vision of reality and its abiding tangents, is vast and open. Fear can be a master but also a way of preservation and in understanding, growth. I very much appreciate your thoughts and comment, Tim. Take care my friend.


Timothy Donnelly profile image

Timothy Donnelly 2 years ago from Ontario, Canada

Allow me a goodwill critique, Tony, if I may.

Without supposing your state, since you have proven to be a professional and prolific writer who may consciously chose to explore different subject genres with pen, the macabre theme written here most surely consist of transient thoughts, I hope; for they will not reveal blessed opportunities until dismissed as a barrage of oppressive fears and hyperbole welcoming the undervaluation of self. No saviour in sight? Look again without this enticement of oppression my good man, if you will.

Do not gloom, as you seize upon and embrace the gift of marvellous articulation you have attained, for contagious can be the message of despair, in spite of its superlative engagement.

As always, my deference remains for you and your work.

Good Tidings and Fare Thee Well.

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