Perhaps I may live to see the day death cries and leaves us for good.
Perhaps I may find a way to pluck the spirits from the trees of Hades
And gift them to the ones who buried them down in that shady wood.
Perhaps, I may just disintegrate into a thousand stars
- each with a mind of its own -
And leave no trace of the mind
I bound with fear and anguish
Over a thousand wars.
What would it be then - at that moment of disintegration
- when all is to tear asunder the carefully woven complication
For which I was known to be difficult ?
Will it rip my heart to see my precious mind losing its grasp on that anger
I cradle to sleep on a pillow full of memories hidden away for the better?
Will I have a heart at all?
Or will a spade of iron shoo it away
And save me the trouble of feeling anything at all?
Perhaps, I may see my fear for what it is: a silly girl who delights in leading a lover on and then giggles as she runs away with another to another kingdom.
Or I may see my anger without its disguise:
as a child afraid to lose the ones he loves and yet
ready to lose them all for a sparkling little box of light labeled ‘freedom’.
Perhaps, I may live to see that box.
Perhaps, I may open its lid.
But what’s not a perhaps is that
I’ll walk into its glittering pool
I’ll wade into its blinding depths
And when I in it drown,
With me I’ll take
Every tear, shock, fear and frown…
Comments