Thursday, September 24, 2015

I was the curious girl
who plucked the hands
from the face of the clock
like wings from off the back
of the helpless fly
just to say I could

but when they fell 
like ashes that 
could not go back
I learned the price
of impulse without
the understanding
and tried in frustration
to put the mark 
to time again
with the ticking of the heart
when all the spirit wanted
was a place to live 
outside the confines
of laws wrote to this world
to make me a girl
with sight to see
transcendent of the days
gone by

yet I's too scared to scatter
the human perceptions
to the wind
for fear I might forget
where I had been
and where I've yet to be

but when the tears
fell past my cheeks
lamenting what was lost
imprisoned in the box
of finite cells on calendars
all locked into the day
they touched the pile of ash
of what was plucked
and on the floor
and reawakened 
the fragile of the broken hands
to wings of dragonflies

that spiralled through the dream
to take the music of the heart
to flutter in your chest
with promises that time is freed
not from the careless whims
of a child set to discover
how far it is that she could go
but from the woman 
who gives these 
moments wings
and lets what love will be
alone so it may learn to fly 

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