Tuesday, January 31, 2012

I Am Bound

“If you give them enough rope, they’ll hang themselves.”
--Mr. Williams, American Political Systems, 1.30.12

I was tied by hands that knew my own
                from smaller joints to how they’ve grown.
I fell clean on a clammy street
                that punched me back in my defeat.
I looked around to spot my foe
                that struck me with a backwards blow
and saw a figure by a tree
                that stood not far away from me.
I saw him sitting, not in black,
                but clothed in grace that I now lack.
I saw his outline, head cast low.
                He did not sparkle, shine, or glow.
His head rose slowly towards the light
                until his eyes were in my sight.
I recognized his rigid eyes,
                his sullen stare, not a disguise,
not a reaper, ghoul, or ghost,
                nor any demon I feared the most,
but me—past tense—below the tree
         watched me—here, now—in apathy.
His eyes shot through me with his stare
                that turned me cold in summer air.
Then he rose and walked towards me
                and I, desperate, began to plea
to spare my life and release my hands
                so I could continue with my plans.
He said nothing; he smelled of grace
                that softened his adolescent face.
A rope extended within his clutch
                and plans no longer mattered much.
I could not change it, but regret
                filled the moment with vignette.
He came at me, I caught his eye,
                he did not even answer why,
and then, with desperate severity,
         I stole myself away from me.

1 comment:

  1. Wow! Gave me shivers! You are soooo talented young lady. :)