The sun bleeds red
through the paper
of eyelids and I seep
salt over the cracks
of words; the pain sits
in the bones of me,
aches in rainstorms. 

Remorse twists in
the thunder, flawed
language fails
hailing confusion
in spheres of fury,
hate is relative –
thaws, for snowflakes
are all different.

Sonia Hendy-Isaac

If you have any comments on this poem, Sonia Hendy-Isaac would be pleased to hear them.

Snakeskin logo