Stunted
Within this darkness
The bitterness of memory
Steps in again to taunt me
Yanking at these chains
The links of which remain
Past incantations spoken
Past every single token
With water from the wells
Of his cathedral
This Father came to save me
But you know how fathers can be
When brothers leave the room
Of little girls in bloom
It isn’t rare
For those who dare
Those living tools of Satan
While others are debating
To do the same
For their own gain
While flowers in the attic
Appear to be combative
Rocking to and fro
Steady as you go
Never will you grow
Steady as you go
Rocking to and fro
©Kay Salady
Posted on November 4, 2017, in kay salady's poetry and tagged anxiety, fear, loss, memory, sorrow, trauma, unhealthy desire. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.
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