Category — Circadian Creation

Flappp… flappp.
She heard the sound echoing around her.
Flap flap.
The sound was heavy and commanding,
A prehistoric bird perhaps, swooping in
To snatch her from herself.

Opening her eyes, enveloped
By white light
And a heavy vibration in
Her empty chest.
White light shrouded by impossible
Wings above her.
Magnificent grace.

She could see no face.

Flapp flap.
She opened her mouth;
Everything
Was wrong.
She tried to scream.

Flapp flap.
Was the only sound.
Slow and pregnant.

Tilting her head and searching around her
All she could see was
Endless wings.
The empty chests of countless girls
Like her.

A wing reached down and covered her.
Grace reformed to heaviness and darkness.
Taking her breath as she gasped one last time.

This is just a very rough first draft still…inspired by an interview with poet laureate Billy Collins heard on NPR yesterday.

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And multitudes disappear

Tied up in strings
Of their past and dreams lost
They cry in the shadows, Hiding
their tears from the masses.

Curling up in corners,
Bellies up against the wall, They
abandon the sunshine for the dark
depths of despair

Their cries are silenced by the night
And no one sees the stains
on their flesh; Or the streaks in their eyes
And they seamlessly melt into the core
Of us all.

-By me so don’t steal

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