Please, don't get lost in the oil spill of my blame. <br />The fire that follows could easily cause shame. <br />The stains on my sweater will show you my weather, <br />And it is sure I am someone you cannot tether. <br /> <br />My strokes are unsteady as I tread in the night, <br />But my hands show my vigor, my stealth, and my might. <br />The sandbags rest heavily on their eyes' furry tail, <br />While the ocean is calling on something so frail. <br /> <br />My labyrinth of language has torn at the beach. <br />The truth seems so close, yet so far out of reach. <br />Blood is so blue it drives life to its sheath, <br />But it is to you my dear, my mind, I bequeath.<br /><br />Christine M. Petrarca<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-trembling-of-blame/
