I note where sharp thorns sit
waiting to pierce us
unawares, elicit shrieks,
for they know how vulnerable
human skin can be,
can be broken,
and a raw wound gape
and bleed, like slitting
open an envelope sleeve.
And I'm learning how a girl like me
can hide away, close to a veiled,
unseeing parental gaze.
This bushy undergrowth is like
a world within a world,
one I long to lose myself in,
to press into darkness
while my heart seeks out the tiny,
flickering pinpricks of light
found glittering in the gaps as stars,
gently pointing the way
forward—like a litany of psalms.
© joylenton
No comments:
Post a Comment