my mind is a labyrinth
of disillusion and brilliance.
every day i step upon
the edge of its doom,
cracked and burning
beneath staple hands.

i walk on my head,
hair mopping the floor and
bent over sing, hallelujah.
i've worshiped crowns
from days that were
long ago turned to ash,
with children
coloring crayon on my skin.
they wipe off the wax,
spread the markers and say,
'when can i play hopscotch
on your spine?'

i lay for them, exposed,
sacrificed.
they, the young ones,
are the truth bearers.
their eyes have
not yet splintered,
their innocence
not yet raped and scourged.
their destruction
is not yet handed to them
by beheading.
they still have yet hope.

but beneath their feet,
i am there, dwindling.

for them, i burn.

07/25/2004

Author's Note: so, so strange.

Posted on 07/25/2004
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe