| Written: OCT 11, 2003 |
Dancing from stream to stream,
I search to find the balance.
Trudging through these marshlands
I see not a dry eye for vantage.
Wind tossed memories mourning
Over once possessed firm resolve.
Lost, it does me no good to cry out,
For my displeasures are nothing to the
Dredging cacophony heard.
Following some remnant stones,
I come to the last resort.
A cherished glade winding down,
Blemished and soaked in sordid tears.
I’ll not last till the last
Bastion of hope.
Joy floods away as I am
Frigidly immersed in wants.
Ducking the falls I come to the
Darkest caverns musty.
Neglect hounds me, so I escape,
Falling up the cliff face in haste;
I revel in the horrid blackness below,
Using its wickedness to propel me.
Gaining the falls I gasp,
For the cavern is not a cave:
They bear bared teeth locked
In an eternal scream temporary;
The last grasp at expenditure.
“Feelings flee me,” they silently call,
As the very falls douse my will
The desire to carry on.
Too great the sorrows shinning,
Dropping onto me in big liquid pains.
Cry not for it all,
With you I’ll share in the task.
My caused brief respites are not enough;
But I will be damned as will
Displeasure, bridging the gaps, stopping
The flow of fluid passions from you.
I can open your eyes anew,
Smother your nonexistent screams with mine,
Cry not love, break away,
Cease to stay as stone locked with death.
Stand with me, a mere woman again,
No longer a sanctuary of the harmful.
Mop your eyes against my shoulder,
And allow the salty waters to desist;
Now nothing but bad dreary dreams,
Become a dry bed.
