Stranded on the Shore

Stranded on the Shore

Still and silent, the rage-laden whispers speak
Of possibilities in the form of forth-coming terrors
The horse’s mouth, bird beak, hushed words
Tale telling of a Go-See plot
And does it, so loudly unspoken
Against lost time, better judgement, all odds
Standing to remind of a broad daylight greed
A thief I never and always saw coming

The words that want so badly to never be said

Paint a picture, spin a web
Revealing what’s taken and can’t be returned: innocence, purpose, peace
Without words the secrets see them, rumor them around
The ugly truths, hidden horrors that bring my conscience to its knees and face to face with everything swept beneath the rug
For the sake and demise, equally, of my fragile mental well-being
What will my being become, if not well?
Will I live to hunt the answers down, the knot-tying fears for which my heart is broken and breaks?
The ceaseless prayers, the Nothing that’s changed
Am I the only one? The stand-alone widow, the petrified wood
Will the hand of God reach all the sense unmade?
Intervene, explain how I came to be in this place
Negate the reasons, the wild card
Played by the King of Spades
Savage; cripple
Keeper of my gate
I look into his eyes
And all I see
Is the exchange of his name for my entire life, my dreams of a future or anything worthwhile, my every breath and every move accounted for, my soul and my sense of belonging
In this world there are winners and losers
Sometimes it’s just luck of the draw
But this, this was something I chose
For myself, my children
I look into their eyes
And all I see
Is their entire life, their dreams of a future or anything worthwhile, their every breath and every move accounted for, their soul and sense of belonging
Teetering on the verge
Between manifest and unactual; my lifelong regret in the making
Who am I to tame the darkness, yet how am I to let it live?
Woman warrior, a mother I was always
I’ll be damned or dead if he gets the last word

The words that want so badly to never be said


4 responses »

  1. Wildflower, the warmth of the earth be thine home. Where whether parched, or soaked to the bone. Your colours continue to leap, sprout forth from the cracks. The openings to reach windward towards, open, cloud dappled light. Wildflower, grow in your choices, words, stories, and dreams. A young bud spring forth overnight, waiting for that first light. Blue in its wayfarer’s silk haze, to slow, pause to open, fresh to the new day. Colours radiant, bending in the soft light rising to kiss the morning sun’s whisper thin wind. Dew vapours walking on a breeze’s waking slumber, moments to waiting conversations blend. No silence, just seasons to sleep a sea, to wake, to live like, Wildflower, free as the breeze… Wildflower, beauty, rich, rare heart with soul.

    • Wild soul with heart: growing in choices, pausing to open, bending to light, to live like the flower bloomed wild… That’s it. There’s the truth, for you Bidd. Perfectly rising, must you also incline our great sun where to go? In timing in season it’s tempted to listen, I’ll bet every chip that I’ve got still upon it. Talent that can’t be learned or taught. That’s what you’ve got. Mad insight, friend.

      • Friend, you have just as much skill in the splice, where a Gordian Knot could never hold, a tailor of fresh spoken words, your tongue as verdant to the winds above. Easy in dusk’s verse to the spring of the waking Way’s night sky, before another day arrives new with the sounds of the vast far arching Blues… Friend.

  2. Pingback: Wildflower | Sean Bidd

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