11: Open - Nov 2021


Long journey labouring months of grief, darkness and hollow holes,
Longing for the life lost,
The one I search and seek,
Craving the normality,
The routine and daily crux,
Resisting the awakening,
The gift this curse has blessed me with,
My neck breaks with compliance,
Yet, like the abused, I lie awake,
Communing with lies that are now gone,
Like a Stockholm baby in the grave,
Patience and grit in abundance,
But darkness surrounds the core.

Bright lights, big smiles, and small talk,
Piercing my skin then a cold nothing,
Knowing I’m thrown around is a void thought,
Awakened to a sense of my youngest feminine,
Soothed, censored, and safe all within,
Winding lines, undulating, cascading circles all deep back in time,
I now realise the gift is all mine,
Me, born again with free roots and fresh foliage,
New shoots rooted to the elder version of me,
Fragility of legacy when rebirth occurs,
The flowered pedestal crumbles,
As solid sovereignty rises within.


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