Won’t be long

Rain swoops down upon the hearth,
Smoke – it fills the room,
Rain, it smarts like icy knives,
Smoke - breath stopped short.

The trees grow green and Bright –
a luminescent glow,
but smoke still hovers – mingles
air and breath still slow.

Walk along that sodden path
Dotted with birds and bees –
No mental torment they have suffered
But I – breath still without ease.

Thick black clouds of pain and grief,
They coarse and throb my mind
Weight – a burden and oppression –
Won’t be long. It won’t.