Wednesday, September 2, 2015


In the corner of her mind, a solitary cage cloaked in shadows, build of pain, lined with tears, perfumed with anger and rage, bars thick with dried blood, desperation rolls around it in dark malevolent clouds, sits.

She sits across from it, staring at it as rage builds up inside.
“This is where you want me to go?”
“This place you delight in!?”
“You want to see me suffer!?”

She turns her face, shuttering as she turns in on herself.
Retreating from the facts before her.

Would scrubbing the bars remove the dried blood?
Would sweeping out the desperation remove the stains?
Would adding light purify instead?

It’s still a cage of suffering, no matter how pretty it’s made to be.
 Be it built of thorns instead of blood, a cage it still would be.

She swept, she scrubbed, she let the light in.
She climbed into the cage and sat down and looked around
The world was stripped and she could not reach it.
Eye went black, convulsing, spinning, falling apart

Rage and terror threatens to tear her apart
Stilling life as breath ceases
Eyes open slowly seeking

The door was still open and heart beating fast.
Beating fast, hard, hands touch the latch and she steps out
And breaths.

Changed, not the same.
Can she go there again and again?
To sit in the place of deep sorrows?

How can this be what it means to Me?