Stirring The Pot

I am cooking something from the

unlikeliest of ingredients:

A dash of harsh winter season-ing

A pinch of the salt on my wounds

Slices of bitter fruit. 

In summer I took you with me 

as we frolicked among the trees, 

picking blueberries.

Now I'm left gazing at a darkened sky. 

And though I am being split open, 

sliced upon a chopping board

and set on fire... 

That my pain would result in a pleasant plate

Is the hope upon I rely. 

So gather your coats, 

I am throwing a feast

For the lost and the least. 

PS : 

The past year I've been on a ride 

trying to find light in the darkest of places,

and here I am finally brave enough 

to face the darkness. 

Acknowledging that both reside in me 

and both have their place and purpose. 

I've started a baby blog in honour 

of the dark clouds that eclipse the sunshine...

Do not think of it as good blog /sad blog but rather a labour of self discovery.

Link : The Occasional Cloud