Saturday, September 18, 2010

In a Moment

In a Moment 

Who am I to become 
when my stories are obliterated? 
When I awaken 
naked and unarmed 
upon a shadowed 
rocky trail? 
It's not that I want swaddling cotton fantasies. 
I want the armor 
consistent with my role, 
both the lessons in the real and 
the comforting warm arms of happy home. 

It's more than I can bear. 
I crack wide open. 
The scenery means nothing, 
I hide inside my wound. 
There's nothing left to bind the bleeding. 
I am open to the world 
while intently blind to it. 
I sit upon a hillside counting 
waiting for the lightening to strike. 

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