*from draftbox
No red flag blowing in a breeze of knowledge
at half mast as I jump from the cliff edge into the
jagged pool of broken glass. Hindsight is such a
glorious possession, we hold it captive deep within
our minds until long after the pain has healed
and we are clear from obstruction,
only then can we declare a deeper knowledge.
Young, the essence of Peter Pan still swarming in
my blood I stood upon the glass verge and plunged
headfirst into the crowd of faceless clones.
How I longed to be normal, to know a love
that transcended time and held me safely
within its hands caressing every contour of my soul.
Passion, the dying man’s feast at the devil’s table,
Satan has it set for two, never did he plan to invite you.
A baron temptress darkness seeped into
the hollow spaces of my spirit,
the moon no longer spilled crystal dust
across my naked skin, Helios hung is head
in shame as I was lost in all but my ancient name.
Karen Hayward ©2016
