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 

rainclouds 

waiting for the lightening to strike.