Monday, 10 June 2013

Brazilian Secrets

by JaneDoeWrites

Harboring denial in every crevice
of her skin, similar to weeds seeping
through the cracks of an unwalked
side street- where abandoned
pennies drift atop, likewise,
she's spent being unspent.


The underestimated year-long
fight for her sanity has evaporated
all the creativity that once nourished
the thick jungles that made her soul,
where she sat braiding her hair
with black bird feathers and running
with deer in the wild,

It's those jungles that were
left in ruins, where her sighs tiredly
blew dusty tumbleweeds
'round and 'round;
Mother Earth purging a child
to weak to fend for herself,
disabled and desperate.

Hopelessly carving into her
last-standing and favorite oak:

It's been years since my calloused hands
have grasped paintbrushes in place
of knives, it's been years since I've
whistled and lived,
instead of crying.
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