Untying
Knots
It's taken months, years in fact, to set things right.
You had me tangled in knots so dense and tight,
I'm only just now beginning to imagine flight, a
capacity for joy and perhaps (someday) delight.
Survivors shouldn't speak such things, as if tempting
Fate to turn treacherous and end-time-christian-minded,
brimming with revenge and mightier-than-thou fantasies;
You deserve the worst because you'll never fit their mould,
I almost hear Her whisper. They'll splay you, naked n' scalded,
under their microscope to observe the tendrils you've thrown,
the irksome ways you've grown wild and incorrigibly alternative,
with your own brand of genteel delinquency, slouching to the left,
toward Life in all its endless permutations and infinite possibilities.
You really thought you had me under your control, barely breathing,
begging for your paltry offerings, a starved hound licking the floor
for a memory of flavour, weak and anemic and unable to savour...
With your steady diet of harmful neglect and stale old chestnuts,
I grew ghostly thin and see-through, a wraith forever lingering,
inhabiting the edges of rooms, swallowing my just deserts.
Thank goodness, despite my vulnerabilities, I was born
with a predilection for untying knots
YOU ARE READING
Out of this Earth
PoetryMusings on the luminous sometimes whimsical world of human love: Bring your heart to the Garden for a feast of Earthly delights but come prepared for unexpected twists and dark turns along the way.
