Sunday, August 11, 2013
Exhausted by wasted hours past, she lets her
head rest on desk in midnight hour,
She dreams she is a tree
that does not tire.
roots are steady, dug down in depth and settled, and within this landscape,
her leaves are breathing well.
And somewhere behind her eyelids flickering,
and somewhere between the dim lamplight
shadows on the walls
and the dreamscape where she is tall,
she begs to stay.
When salt wakens, she
wipes her face,
in place now mandated.
her throat burns along with
to no avail.
She has shed
too many tears of this sort and they render no return, so,
soul now washed of want, she rises weary,
slips on shoes and stares out window at blackened sky.
She gazes until her vision blurs and a sliver of a slant of luminescence sends her to the
Led by sudden whim,
She shakes off weight of all delay and takes a step away from where she came to follow moonlight.
The tightness in her chest releases, and she breaks into a run.
She will not turn back.
She is fleeing death.
The house caws,
calls her back, but
she is racing time now,
and the sun is quickly rising, casting colors
to mark a path.
and makes her way to day.