clipped wings

In my haste to understand
I should have not remained so silent
And let beauty pass
Not knowing it would be so fleeting
Like a broken mantra
The words repeat again
And again
Hollow and cold
Leaving me
A shell

Not the only beauty
Left in the world, my world
Not the first or last to pass
Through my fingers like the wind
And yet now, as night grows deeper
And deeper
I press myself to the glass
To watch the darkness

I stretch myself not far enough
To see the turmoil within
Just enough to scar the surface
Thin lines to remind me
That there is much I don’t know
Can’t know and won’t know

Words trip me over
Release me
Heal me
Hear me
See me
Hold me
Set me free
I can do nothing more

Night will take me
Soon enough
And rest if I am lucky
Will steal me away to other places
Insight will wait for the breaking
Of another night of soul fasting
To know who I am
Without the aid of other mirrors
With
Nothing
~
09.09.06
Leigh-Anne Tyson

Published by Leigh-Anne Fraser

writer, poet, photographer, artist, illustrator, knitter,friend and fine pancake flipper

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