Sunday, August 24, 2014

OF RIFTS, CLIFFS, AND BRITTLE BONE














Another day and her heart stutters and awakes
the rest of her, and that response—what is it?
Flight or fight? Yes—both most likely,
and this is just one of the things that baffles her.
One of the things for which she has no language
and in the absence of words, her longing for a cliff
grows steadily stronger as awareness of bones
becoming brittle and carriage more rickety by the hour.
She wonders at the rift that has brought her here
to this place, this state, this deplorable condition,
and how she's been able to sustain even a modicum
of sanity...
And not been carted off to a proper asylum, or a cemetery.

7 comments:

  1. Suffering from a dose of "Anno domini" are we? However as always I fight on remembering I was another person once.

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  2. I know that feeling well. Good use of the wordle words.

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  3. It is a fine line between holding on and dropping off the edge metaphorically)...i hope she regains some strength and footing

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  4. Looks like she has to strengthen her resolve to make something of herself. Great lines SE!

    Hank

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  5. Hang on there. Don't let them cart you off anywhere! Nice one.

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  6. Your wording brought so much emotion to the wordling.

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