6th April
Strangled
Ivy and brambles grow tight into the structure,
Roots going deep into mud walls
Concealing the entrance.
With hacksaw and pain in equal measure,
I attack the wildness with vigour,
Thorns tearing at my flesh.
Driven by an impulse I can't ignore, success
Depends on this challenge and though blood
Drips all around,
I carry on.
I fight my way through the years of misery
And with every cut, with every root discarded,
I get nearer to the self I lost.
Then a gap, a small hole and I peer inside,
Squint to see what is there in the dark
And carry on, renewed.
I will find my way in, the way to the present moment
And with God, find peace.
Beautifully done, Maz! I know this struggle well, the cutting away of a past overgrown with thorns and thistle, seeking to find what is real so we can live today without the burdens of the past threatening to press us into the ground. I love your poetry, you are so good at this!
ReplyDeleteThanks for all your thoughtful comments Josie Two Shoes.
ReplyDeleteThis is a wonderful metaphor for self-discovery and awareness. With all the tangled roots in our lives, we wonder if we can get clarity back to our source of inner strength.
ReplyDeletevery much enjoyed this Six... enhanced totally by the 'form' i.e. bringing the reader along, at times letting them/us fall into the next line.
ReplyDeletecool