A/N: I wrote this one when I got bored a little. It turned out to be acceptable, I think. I wrote this as Myles' POV on the events in the episode The Leak (season 1), and as general for coming to terms with the things he experiences in his work etc. This is a sort of try out. I have it planned as a sort of Poetry book, where he has written away his angsts, anxieties, his joy etc. It just felt like him, I'm sure Myles for real would've had a similar secret poetry book, somewhere...
We, readers, are allowed to page through and read what had bothered him etc. It is planned to see some more like this. Note: It will be sporadic, I think. Poetry is not something you can do 24/7 You have to be in the mood... Read it, enjoy it (at least I hope) and let me know whether this should be continued and what you think thus far.
Secrets' Sanctuary
-
The lines are forgotten, the names obscured,
but the images never'll go away.
In moments, still, they hunt you at night,
tormenting, in their foray.
Through better times they lie dormant,
suppressed at best, only to be kept at bay.
---
It is only then, in the soul's unrest,
Amidst the upheaval of the mind.
The perturbation is abused, the wolves attack,
defenses shattered, under the persistency of the pack.
Peeling away the skin, like a coconut's zest,
and then, once inside, the weakness they will find.
---
Do others know that sickening thirst?
that sands one's throat, just before,
The waves of fear, the seas of angst,
come streaming through the open door?
Taking away the ocean banks, the soul's defense,
when panic rolls ashore?
---
Yet few who know just how oft' I fall,
how often I fight the lonely battles at night.
To feel the cord around the neck, on the scaffold of despair,
tighten more, with every move, while I am fighting for some air.
It's to no avail, the horror shows, when they take the pall,
my soul's left, when the havoc's done, in a sorry plight.
---
To those who meet me, the nights that have passed,
will never be shown, to them it will remain,
My closely guarded secret, never to be unveiled,
my cave of darkness, the hidden domain.
Where each and every fight I've fought,
is carved out in stone, as sketches of pain.
---
Yet one I trust enough to know, that my troubled mind,
whenever the packs of wolves have left,
After they have feasted on the contents of my soul
and I hear how they're leaving, their haunting howl,
No matter how shattered I am, she'll be kind,
she rebuilds my defenses from which I was bereft.
---
Once I was weak in an unsuspected time,
when the waves and wolves caught me off guard,
There she found me, sitting on the stairs,
my shining defense, as had happened before, had fallen apart.
She never judged, for which I'd feared,
but helped me recuperate, had the destruction retard.
---
Her hands formed the message that reached into the pit,
that let down a rope of hope into the abyss.
Though her language was beautiful, it was unknown to me,
I was blinded by ignorance, and therefore failed to see,
Before, just how graceful she was on whom before I had spit,
mocking her for something she did miss.
---
From her world of silence she opened up my hearing eyes,
an act of friendship that went deeper than ever before.
In her signs, the understanding of my hidden pain was reflected,
and there and then I once again found solid shore.
Now, when the wolves come out howling at night, I dare them, knowing,
though she might be Deaf, she'll listen and protect me from the horde.