Friday, September 30, 2011

Meditations

A landslide brought me down.
I did not chose who would pick me up.

Who were you before your parent's were born?

Who was I meant to be.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeee-- the thunder rolls over the desert.
The rain reaches tides along the coast.

Who am I without you?

Emerald leaves turn red as the blood count rises.
                                                                             drip.
                                                                                     drop.
                                                                                             red.
                                                                                                   ruby.
                                                                                                           pomegranate seeds.

How can I extricate myself from you, when you are the ones who polished me with your stories.

                                                                                                             Obsidian
                                                                                                   fills
                                                                                           my
                                                                               eyes
                                                         with illusion.

I cannot reshape what you have carved me to be.

I cannot fill the cracks
                                  
created
concrete
within.


Tools of love, redemption, betrayal, manipulation ...
manipulations


i

r
a
n

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

so true we try all the time to be something but happiness lies in being what we were created to be

Anonymous said...

An amazing poem. I've read it three times so far and keep finding more.

Unknown said...

Hi Anonymous and Beth, thank you for your comments!