Hidden

It was
the lashing bruises
that subsided on her mind
Emu feathers dancing
with golden ostrich egg dreams
Like an archer of diversity
where controversy has many faces
And yet for her the brig yard was a serene one
with antidotes and schemes
Watching the big ships catch their rigged masts
adrift planks and staves 
Sort of like shock wave instruments
that invade precepts of mind control
where the boot straps are tied to tight
Never lifting a finger to prejudices
nor the ignorance’s of gilded creed
Because it would be like a regal willow
stripped of its weeping branches
That not only can be seen far & wide,
but inside the canopy of her whispery shade
Where the majestic music of the ancients are heard
like listening to sea shells
Calling to the wilds of the wind
and sun bleached limbs of archaic teachers
Selectively making precise choices
to heal the wounds of a life lived
Bitten by the venom of feral knowing
merely to dissipate like wild orchids
Hidden among the ferns and poison ivy…

Metaphysical Poetry: Victoria L. McColley