Broken Shells, a poem in 3 parts*
At dawn it hatched,
at noon I held
a chicklit in my hand,
frail and soft like spring buds.
At dusk I stand and stay
with my dear bird
long flown away.
Clinging to a bird in flight,
Its wings beat solemn through the night
so slow and still, what was, what will
and all that’s in between is seen
through eyes from high above,
and so we rove on and on
past rock, clouds, whatever may
be seen and watch it swirl away,
I frown, I know it is, a long way down.
Closed my eyes when darkness fell,
hope, pray, dream that all is well,
softly curled up I creep
back in my shell,
put the pieces back in place
with crimson ribbon, shreds of lace.
*Author’s note: date = today; just dealing with depression/anxiety and shaking exam stress
Hey guys, sorry I haven’t posted yet in over a week, each day I wake up hoping I’ll finish the next part of the Svart-cycle (I’m almost sure I’m going to call it ‘The Nightingale Paradox. Chronicles of a revolution’), and I end up going to bed unfulfilled, though the chapter is practically done and has been for nearly two week now. Yes, exams are back in town. The regulars among you will know what that meant last time so be warned...
Nice to be back though, however brief. Sorry if I’m slow to respond at the moment, I’m kind of freaking out :S.