Untitled

writing this poem
is like sprinting
through
wild land
vines and burs
grasping for me,
but i’m already gone
moving like
a dancer
a panther
this immortal being
flying past human
conciseness
till i’m
oh so slowly
consumed
by Those
higher than myself.
when my sight
becomes Theirs
i see the past
as it was
in the beginning
before i
started running
with Them
as one
we ran
and through Their
sight i saw
where i was going
once hidden
by that blood-red mask
of flesh and hate
but They
in Their gentle might
severed the ribbon
that held that
mask to face
and i to that
wild, wild land
with those
vines and burs
grasping, but
alas!
We’re already gone





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

Emokittiy This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 23, 2010 at 3:32 pm
i love yur work! its beautiful!! lol i cant spell that word. but i love it!!! :):):):)
 
Writerspenn replied...
Mar. 6, 2010 at 3:11 pm
Thank you!
 
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