Way up north where there is no light, a
pulsating twinkle fades. I'm minimized to
a speck of dust in darkness, losing momentum
in a quiet realm...immobilized in panic.
Are you near? I can hear your breathing.
Hold out your hand, just let me feel you.
In a paralyzed death, things become clear.
Air becomes visible, taking on shapes.
My flesh is frightened and cold, wanting to be
protected. Stalking images closing in while
whispering through faded veils. I'm motionless
with illusions in this blackened breadth.
Growing and growing, fighting an angle to
pull through, not sure what's on the other side.
Fingers creep up slowly peeling away layers.
Hissing sounds of even air spread throughout.
The dim light of dawn from the South follows
the pattern of the wind, warming and wakening.
Reach through and touch. Take my hand. Alive?
Breathe...hold me.
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I like both the pic and the poem. Well-done Marilyn!!!!!
Sandie Angel :o)
love the imagery...very creative
and nice picture!