She sits alone in her room – her bed neatly
made - waiting with lips closed with the same
silent penitent patience of a novitiate – waiting
in a clean old-fashioned dress–claimed,cleaned,
pressed just for this finally arrived day. Grand-
mother’s locket glows golden warm on the scar
between her newly burgeoned breasts. Listening
to the screeching laughing of the others scoring her
mind – claws of stray slit eyed cats – ferociously feral,
screaming enemies of struggled sacred, holy, peace.
She sits alone waiting for the chime of the doorbell just
down the hall at the front door – willing its pure peal –
Breathing in and out – Out and in – calming the cat calls –
clearing the tumbled trouble times until slowly the vast blank
quiet plain of mind returns stretching as pale wheat waving –
as she waits for the chime of the bell and for him to take her
away from this silent screaming heinous home.
She waits, alone through the afternoon –
As sun falls she rises and looks over the field to the
road and a pinprick of light widening curving ever closer
to her – and when, and only when it is but a single curve away
she smoothes the bedcovers and runs to the door on tiptoed bare-feet.
Bong-Bong. She flings open the door - is already outside running past him
her shoes in hand - a sigh on her opened lips – door slapping behind her –
Ready – oh so very ready to ingest whatever he offers in place of all she has silently swallowed for far far too long. And when they are moving far out beyond the fields, the house a fading memory already erasing itself –
She leans out the open window fingers stretched to catch handfuls of soft cool breeze – shakes her hair free and howls. One single joyful howl – laughing at the silver moon – Full, fresh and sumptuously round in this sanctified sky flung with shooting stars of far better tomorrows.
I love the shape of this piece..like finding your shape and sound...beautiful and rich...a journey to readiness..happy new year to youReplyDelete