Found

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She sings to caged bones, lost within the mist of belonging.

She dances bare foot upon moistened earth, praying for understanding.

It never comes.

She bows to tradition, seeking ritual to carve truths. Surface wounds bleed, iron seeping into her receptive soul.

With open arms she calls for the owl at midnight hours.

Yet hours mock, the clock is no friend. Ideals from childhood still haunting present fascinations.

No owl spied. Only paper reflections are points of reference for her, landscape fantasies gracing daydreams.

Traffic echoes.

Mechanic limbs constricting her breath. Machine realities play vividly during meditations. Her world is one of construction, built by green-fingered desires.

Stung by tastes of metal and chemical pastes, smeared across her pastel complexion.

Her skin is worn from tired work. Decades never to resurrect.

Her hair knotted.

Her vision hovers below sun kissed horizons, counting steps to avoid straight lines in pavements.

Her nights are late. Conversations with electric devices partner imaginings of community. Muttering of others existence to be one full of wrongs.

Her life is lost.

Mystery cradles tearful days. The moon ignites primal blueprints and wants of change that never come about. She sits, palms connect to ancient chants, wrenching her from modern chains. Fearless commitment is more than she can fathom.

Yet commit she must, to save a soul not yet broken.

Those Days…

 

When your thoughts resemble the chaos in space

That dark, exploding, frantic place

You’ve no-where to crawl, no corner to hide

No choice but to scream through the scariest ride.

 

When tears soak your skin and you rub your eyes raw

When your smile lines don’t work anymore

When your favourite place is the cold, hard floor

You’ve no boundaries of self, no guidance, no law

 

When the moon howls deeply to our prayers of night

To invite hidden fears from the pit to the light

When the lion, the tiger, the bear and the Hawk

Drum hard on your ear as they roar, as they squawk

 

Those days when we dive with no thoughts of how deep

To call on all demons to dance as we weep

Those days come around like a punctured wheel

Those days I shan’t love, I shan’t laugh, I shan’t heal.

 

Those days when the flame in our heart simmers low

A spark still remains as the embers still glow

Through the dark comes a promise of morning sun

And our two halves of broken will glue back as one.