The Fire Within

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Locked in

So much and so completely ignored

ripping the hinges off of the doors

catapulting me into a world where

daydreams remember

The last window

Kitty no longer stood on the practice field, but in a large, empty room.  Its walls made of a material resembling dark blue blocks of cement, it boasted a ceiling so high that Kitty had to crane her neck to see it.  With no embellishments to speak of--even the windows were only narrow slits--the room had obviously been designed not for beauty so much as for protection.  This was, after all, the site of the Last Window.

Opening Up

I was one fear closer to here

lost in a night too dark for sleeping

was it me on the ledge            or was it you

whispering

                                                                                              

                        do not give up too soon

do not give up

too soon          

                                                                                                                                   

when I am breaking   

I am a fool

where do I stand

I am a piece of stone mixed in

with all this sand

                                               

yet full of proof

of what died   with you

                       

            why did you bring me here to my cyclone second

when rage engulfs this bridge from earth to heaven              

cinder through and through   

                                                                                                                               

you ask too much                    you do

                                               

for one whisper like the hint of water splashed on embers

for one storybook of dreams with its message tethered 

to the fading metal moon    

the sun  it can  be cruel

now that I gave too much                   too soon                                                                     

                                                           

                                    Is this your plan         

           

is this your one           

your great       

your smoky last demand        

or

my intention

my blue-flame doom

because

burned across my heart your forgotten message

the language lost in time with the words rewritten

resuscitate the girl she is out of breathing

collapsed under the hope she could not believe in

the soot was in her eyes she could only cry

was this my one great truth

did I give up

            too soon?

Waking up

I woke up just as my foot hit the grass.  I felt around next to me, but the dog who smelled like cake had gone.  In fact, I was no longer in the woods, but in a room. My hand flew to my back: the fairy wings had disappeared.  Now I could only hope that the pain would, too.

                

                

Blindsided

Just around the corner,

you can be singing,

staring at the clouds forming,

or at the ants running.

            And then you will see nothing else.

            You will wonder why you never saw it

            coming.