Desert Rose
There is beauty in treacherous things.
She is born with fire in her veins
and the primitive wild of the desert in her heart.
It manifests as the steady thrum of her pulse
and the slow draw of every measured breath.
Enraged, she becomes a storm.
Harrowing and limitless in scope and power.
Inexhaustible.
Unyielding.
And when she finally abates
and the world again grows still,
the silence left in the wake of her fury is reverent.
But so too is there beauty in the calm.
The full extent of her radiance
glimpsed in moments of undisturbed tranquility.
Until the restlessness begins to stir anew.
And when the heat-choked air thickens in anticipation of the next terrible upheaval,
it looses a great sigh.
And the endless golden sea shivers.
About the Creator
Raeanne Patterson
Just a young woman full of uncertainty, looking to find her voice.
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (2)
This poem leaves me wanting to know more. Such powerful imagery.
Holy moly that’s some powerful stuff there! As always, your wordplay is impeccable!