168: Healing (Part II)

Morning sun of 8 a.m. plays across his body

drawing broken patterns of gold on skin so pale

so pale

it's almost sickly and it catches

in the shadows under his eyes and the sweat of his palms

and he murmurs, Miel, but she has flown and fled and lies no more

and all that hear him are the photons disappearing

into some unfathomable void where his voice is lost

and yet he murmurs, calls

—Venez à moi

but she does not see, does not hear, lies too far away

in sunshine and honey and warmth and her flowers

sway about her as she smiles and dreams and knows

that she is free.

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Note: The italicised words in the text come from the French language and may be translated as follow:

Miel - Honey

Venez à moi - Come to me

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: Please note that all poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been seen by our editors, and that the editors have suggested revisions where they see fit, but we believe that it is ultimately the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions and take no responsibility for which suggestions they accept or reject.