'The caravan of love' by Brendon McConville
My name is Darren
In shadows cast by love’s deceit, there lies a tale of sorrow,
Where innocence, like fragile glass, was shattered by tomorrow.
Darren, once a name of strength, now burdened by despair,
Accusations false as dusk, they filled the morning air.
Two years have passed, yet still the weight, it crushes every breath,
For in the court of love and life, the heart was sentenced to death.
A child’s mother, once a muse, became a harbinger of pain,
To gain her means, she wove a lie, a cruel, vindictive chain.
The gavel fell, declaring truth, yet whispers did remain,
Innocent, the judge decreed, but could not ease the strain.
For public eyes, and wary hearts, they lingered in the past,
Trust, once firm as ancient stone, now fragile as the glass.
Ongoing are the silent cries, the nights bereft of sleep,
Depression’s cloak, it wraps around, in shadows, secrets keep.
Esteem, it crumbles like dry leaves, beneath the autumn’s tread,
Intimacy, a distant shore, where broken dreams are spread.
My new wife, a beacon bright, through stormy seas did guide,
Her love a steadfast lantern, through the dark, she did abide.
Yet even in her arms, I felt the echoes of the lies,
A chasm vast between our souls, though close, our hearts denied.
To every kiss, a question, to every touch, a tear,
The ghost of accusations false, it whispered in our ear.
How can one rebuild the trust, when doubt is sown so deep?
How to find the dawn of love, when shadows always creep?
And though the courts may find me free, the heart is never cleared,
The world it judges silently, each glance a jury feared.
In mirrors, I see not the man, I once believed was me,
But fragments of a shattered soul, that struggles to be free.
My child, the innocent, caught in this tragic play,
A pawn within a bitter game, where love was cast away.
What legacy have we bequeathed, what lesson does this teach?
When lies can twist the purest bonds, and truth is out of reach.
So here I stand, a man unmade, by falsehood’s cruel embrace,
In search of peace, a healing balm, within this fractured space.
Though time may dull the sharpest pain, the scars will always show,
For Darren is a name that bears the weight of endless woe.
Yet in this dark, a glimmer stirs, a hope that still might mend,
That love, though bruised and battered now, can someday comprehend.
The strength it takes to rise again, from ashes of the past,
To forge anew a future bright, where true love’s light will last.
For though the journey’s arduous, the heart can find its way,
To heal, to trust, to love again, and cast the night away.
And though the scars may never fade, they tell a story true,
Of a man who faced the darkest night, and through it, still he flew.
Darren Martin Rees
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