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Thursday, April 25, 2013

Descent

*This is the first piece I have written since the completion of To Touch the Moon.  There are times when I allow the noise of life to drown out the words, the rhymes, the gentle whisperings of prose and poetry.  And the last year has been one of those times.  Oftentimes, my pride prevents me from admitting, even to myself, that I am human.  There truly is a limit to the amount of projects and pressure that I can take before the cracks become self-evident.  And it is time that I returned to my roots, to the words that have saved me on so many countless sleepless nights.  Time to reconnect with heart of my being.  I thank you all that have stood true at my side, giving me strength when it was most needed.  To W.N., thank you for once again reminding me that I AM the writer. 


Descent



The veil
Thickens
Closes
As darkness
Creeps in
To reclaim
What once
Was conquered
Severing
Ethereal bonds
Grasping
Mere memories
Of shadows
Static but a
Lingering
Desire for the
Fingertips
That no longer
Feel
Anything
But the broken
Face that hides
The collapsing
Mind
The seeing eyes
So blind
That the path
Beneath the
Cemented feet
Dissolves into
Oblivion

Where did it go?
Where does it hide?

Broken purpose
Pounds within
But a breath
From fading
Into blackness
Taking prisoner
Life
And Sanity

How did I get here?
How do I rise?

Once
Upon the backs
Of eagles
And golden
Butterflies
Sister
To a goddess
Daughter
Of a glimmering
God
Now caged
Wings marred
Song forgotten
Stuck in the
Throat
Of one so
Parched
Of Hope
Of Desire
That the lust
For drink
Is gone
Withered
Blown to
Some far recess
By the
Harsh wind
Of a purple
Desert
Where silvery
Orbs
Lie like relics
Covered
By the sands
Of roads
Once traveled
Side by side
Now barren
Empty
A world of
Nothing
Bottled and
Buried
Left to decay
Poisoned
One
Last
Time

Where did it go?
What did I do?

Lamenting
To emptiness
Where once
The world
Spun round
Grasping
For anything
A glimmer
One small
Ray of
Promise
One dim
Beacon to
Reveal the way
Praying
Pleading

Help me
Be





Copyright 2013 by Laurie Martin-Gardner
All rights reserved.
No part of this content can be reproduced in any manner without prior written consent of the author.
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I'm a wife, a mom, and a writer. My life is crazy and chaotic ... but I wouldn't have it any other way!

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"A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be." -- Abraham Maslow

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