She walks the trails between her nightmares and her desires,
Wearing nothing but the mist in which the universe drapes her old bones,
Shadows swirl through her hair, garnishing her facial features,
As she enters the ether, the walkways through abandoned hopes and once promised zones.
******
She scans the skies for the phoenix sent to deliver her to freedom,
The one that’ll carry her far from her past of grave mistakes and false regret,
As she wanders she rifles through her memories, stopping on those that are especially precious,
Reliving them one last time; as she’s delivered she’ll be honoured to forget.
******
At last her ride hovers over the horizon, heading in her direction,
A bird of prey crests the airwaves under the foretelling shadow,
A smile graces her face at the sight of her fiery saviour,
Who lifts her into the clouds, her pain and anguish left far below.
******
She raises her heart to the heavens and laughs at the freedom she has received,
Her memories disintegrate into shards of spice and pain as they fall away,
Wings flow around her, encasing her in their warmth,
Her reward for all the agony in which she was made to pay.
******
She’s washed through with unspoken gratitude,
Relieved to escape the banishment of those set to destroy,
She earned her time, payment was paid over and again; freedom well and truly overdue,
Her peace to be protected at all costs, her aging years swept clean for her to enjoy.
******
Slowly she is delivered back down to earth, Mother Nature bathing her in tears to cleanse the dirt,
The sun warms upon her head, smiling quietly on one who has mellowed well throughout the years,
She thanks her army of rescuers, knowing this time round she’ll be receipted with that sign,
Foretelling once and for all — she’s made up of hopes and dreams and not just a stagnant wound filled with all her fears.
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Comments (5)
As always I am amazed by your poetry, the last stanza was absolute perfection...
Hehehehehehe cannot wait for this to happen. Loved your poem!
Thoroughly enjoyed!
A fantastic poem full of imagery and passion!
This is wonderful. Well done, my friend.