I was once a forest
made up of lofty hopes
and greenest trees of life
breath of fresh air
and sunshine within my skin
rooted into my arms
where you could dip in the warmth
of my natural love
and be at home
in the wilderness of my heart
I was a timber in the carpentry of your dreams and adventures
uncultivated and undisturbed
’til I was devastated
by conflagrations and wildfires—
of being too much and not enough
misused and overused
These days are high and dry
My mind became a desert
my chest is in drought
And I don’t feel safe in my own skin anymore
A cactus of agony pricked me
down to the very core
I hold parts of myself
on my palm
as if they were ashes and dunes
dissipating into the vicious wind of life
I’m bereaved
I grieve
Where will I find home now?



One Reply to “HIGH AND DRY

  1. My, my, I wonder where you find those images. That one in the bottom is astounding and your poetry is so subtle and earnestly introspective painting with words that it fills me with amazement more and more I read it. I don’t have enough words to appreciate you. You make me speechless! Thanks for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

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