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Black Flats

By
Roaming into the abyss
Every day dashing further away
From the no’s, the yes’s, and
The unwelcome surprises.

Faster they trod,
Still scarred by the past,
Trying to remain unseen
In the only camouflage it knew, neutral.

Like a drying wound,
They are stained purple, but only on the inside,
Concealing their pain from the world.

Incapable of healing,
It will linger forever.
Though only in remission,
Or that’s what they promised.

Knotted at the toe,
A clever distraction,
An un-cracked wall with a barbed wire fence
A breach made impossible.

Now sprinting,
Increasing their speed.
Ignorance is a helping hand,
But never a permanent companion.

Eventually time clawed its’ way back,
And with it, a chisel.
Cracking the wall inch by inch.
Cutting the wire that surrounded it.
Everything was crumbling.
Barriers began to fade.
Only vulnerable layers remained
A recession of all neutrality.

Blockades no longer protected the spineless
For time had opened all the gates,
Letting in a new ray of light,
With all the flashes of a spectrum unknown.





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joy26 said...
Jan. 16, 2009 at 8:01 pm
Wonderful! The title of the poem captured my attention at the beginning - I love how you take such an uncared-for, dreary daily object and transform it into a story.
 
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