Standing by the window, Eyes upon the moon. Hoping that the memory Will leave her spirit soon
She shuts the doors and lights And lays her body on the bed. The images and words are running deep.
She has too much pride to Pull the sheets over her head. So quietly she lays and waits for sleep.
She stares at the ceiling And tries not to think; She pictures the chain She's been trying to link.... Again.
But the feeling is gone.
And water can't cover the memory. And ashes can't answer her pain. God, give me the power to take Breath from a breeze, And life from this cold metal frame.
In with the ashes, And up with the smoke from the fire With wings up in heaven;
Or here, lying in bed. Palm of her hand to her head. Now, and forever curled. In my heart and the heart of the world.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
About this poem:
Many women in this world have suffered injustices in relationships. I wrote this because I understand this, I've experienced that pain myself. I'm just trying to empathize with those who have been hurt. I was feeling quite reflective when I wrote this.
cosmosis - wonderful write and can be interpreted many ways
caroljoyceManchester, Greater Manchester, England UKMay 28, 2010
Thanks for this wonderful write .I have felt this too. The emotional wounds they inflict upon you are far more dangerous than the physical ones though as they are much harder to heal up. Curling up like a foetus is always instinctive and makes you feel safer.
Hi, cosmosis, At one time or another, we all look for the power to take Breath from a breeze and, when we can, to reach for the hand of a friend in the heart of the world. You captured well the struggle in wait for sleep. Thank you for sharing.
Comments (3)
At one time or another, we all look for the power to take Breath from a breeze and, when we can, to reach for the hand of a friend in the heart of the world. You captured well the struggle in wait for sleep. Thank you for sharing.