I’m afraid. Of what the words might say. Should I give them the freedom they so crave. I want to write about the tragedies. To make them less tragic, perhaps. Turn them into stories and tales. Wave my wand and watch the butterflies burst forth from their cocoons. Steal back that message in a bottle, so no one will ever know. Not that my SOS went very far.
I want to relive the moments, but not as they happened. I want to change history, because I believe I have the power. Adjusting life’s rearview mirror, so I can see what’s behind me. It’s not in the past until I take that first step back.
Just frail wings, but the potential for so much catastrophe. Children crouching in the cold, until the darkness drives them home. Creeping up the sleeping steps, so loud and cruel. Surrendering to the blink of tiny lights, but it’s too late.
The fairy tale shatters. Lives come to a screeching halt. Pieces, pieces everywhere, but no words to give them flight.
I want to write about the tragedies. I want to wake up from this life.
Monday, November 16, 2009
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{hugs}
ReplyDeletea link to a poem I thought you might like... relates to something of what you're getting at in this lovely and yet mournful poem...
ReplyDeleteright click and open in new window this LINK
like the sleeping dragon.... once you begin to uncurl, you will be riding the feelings down, and up ... to the words.... thanks for the journeys you bring
ReplyDelete