On the Eve of My Destruction

I love Facebook most of the time.  For instance, the “memory” application that shows what you’ve posted on this day for the last few years.

I actually joined waaaaay back.

One of the goodies up for grabs today included a poem I had written for a contest in 2010. When they (the contest committee) mentioned my work, he only mentioned he didn’t like poetry. Which left me wondering – why have an option for it then?

Needless to say, I didn’t win. Which is totally okay – because I have published books – and he does not.

Can I in good conscious feel giddy about that?

Of course I can.                                     

I’m also one of those people who can say, in an oh-so-loving-tone –  “I told you so,” and not feel guilty about it either.

So with no further fanfare, I’m going to share it here.

On The Eve of My Destruction

Circling death,
Round and round.
Crying cold winter tears
That fall like frozen rain
Into the desert
That used to resemble
A hopeful heart.

Tendrils of misty fog
Float in my wake,
Showing the opportunities
Lost in the furies
Of the wind that
Blows down the
Canyon of lost dreams.

Grief weighs down
A heavy soul.
The wings of life and
The energy of love
Disappear in the wake
Of bitter disappointment.
Again.

Do I have it in me?
The moon shows
Her benevolence and
Lights the way.
As I spread
My weary wings
For the last flight home.

 

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