The Reflection Pool

This soul laments the 
emptiness borne within its
very own depths. Moon shadows
trail across the forest meadow
and tears grieve their loss of 
a body’s warmth and home.

Drifting aimless on the night’s
passions, Jupiter’s reign of the
sky accentuates this voice of
the spiritually incomplete.

Memories maim and deform 
as she flees, unrecognizable
to her own skin. Shards
of bone leave a trail
of bread crumbs, a way
back to what was. Never
forward. Never present. Only
ever back to the distorted 
reality of yesterday.

The confessions of the voices
she hears disfigure her dreams
and blackness devours her
like a cancer. Alive, with each
breath, she walks. Courage, like
a badge the fool wears, is ablaze
on her left breast. Her heart, 
she refuses to affix to her sleeve.

Hidden,
kept there away from 
eyes that pry and the hands
that mangle the roots of trees
and history. You are among them
and your wrath and lies are their
wrath and lies, the venom
in the veins of one bitten just
above where boots no longer
protect.

Still, flowers bloom and swans
glide upon still pools, awkward
in their new union. Wings
of white wipe away gray skies of 
winter, hailing a new spring’s 
promise and hope. The innate 
faith of together surpasses the
years to come as age sets in.

We grow.