CHIDA'S LAMENT

I am dissembling.
Eclipses of images,
Splintering; filtering down
The embodiment of incandescence.
Terror nips at the heels of my lucidity,
Tainting the flowers enfolded within my garden of stones,
Slippery with decay.
The night seeps into my chest,
Dampness and murky darkness engulf my peripheral senses.
And all through the changes of nightwatch to day,
The world itself moves with preternatural speed;
Leaving me straining in vain against the pull of lethargy
That suckles my willpower like a babe at the breast.
And days wax long as my strength ebbs.
The roses of youth and of hope both fade...
Returning to the ground that gave them birth.
Weep, Child of a Wednesday and lay...
Lay your head on the crackling leaves;
Let your tears nourish the soil 'neath your cheek.
Let the cool December air fill your tiny lungs
And cleanse your tortured soul till the waters run clear
And the shadows of sorrow abate.

By cherie a. groves 12/03
Written by my alter Rapunzel, for my 12 year old alter, Chida