melissaahowells
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And is it like me...
this dark inner paradise and is it like me these rising tides and crashing waves the seas-a-rolling and is it like me these inner darkening clouds and is it like me this tempest this anvil-shaped heart this inner insistence growing... I have been tossed high up into the mountains hidden deep dark down in the gloom and the green I am the moss and the moldering I am the loss and the feigned innocence now from a time when power was cruel and decays with the graves and the dust I am the ashes and the damp-blood clay trampled beneath bared feet I am the fading light of my failed reflection Why am I Not this money-tempted man's rued distraction? high in his cardboard rooms cloistered as a nun the sun now lost to me only the flames of the candles burn the sun no longer a memory to me author/poet retains all legal copyright for this poem/work 5:33pm PST April 8 2020 time/date stamped and also for this legally copyrighted site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World by this poet/author Melissa A. Howells I am for the Underdog, the Lost, the Unrequited and Forgotten. Written after a third and thorough reading of Jean RHYS's timeless classic Wide Sargasso Sea...a reworking of Jane Eyre and the deemed less- than-heroic of Heroines, Antoinette, AKA by her Mother's name Bertha. Vote for this poem |
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