Tuesday, 24 May 2011

Shhh.

I want to tell you all about it,
To express my fury, fears and frustration,
But it's like having a dirty secret.
I am not free to express myself, you see.

I would express scorching ash over her green shoots.
Shoot acid at her bare flesh.
Gouge her eyes so I can see,
Throttle my oxygen from her gasps.

So I must be strong, and silent.
And she?
There is no reciprocation in this pact.

But self pity is vile.

I must drink cool pools
Breathe deep draughts
And tell you, who travels alongside me,
I am the same as you.

4 comments:

John said...

I see I'm not the only one with temporary desires for some old fashioned revenge, normal enough for having been disrespected, etc. I love this piece. Have you published any new poetry?

Mavis Moog said...

I can see how this reads as a desire for revenge, but actually it is cry of impotence. Expression is the key. How often we can express vitriol and feel better afterwards. The trick is to do no harm. A scream is therapy, only if it doesn't deafen anyone.

Kelly J. Petersen said...

Love this!

John said...

Ah. Impotence is way worse than needing revenge, not that I've ever suffered from it (wink). Sorry I misinterpreted it. I sometimes do. Hope you are well, Mavis.