CIL ( / )

A Mother's Lament

I float through time,
In and out of place,
Deep down in the waters, I can breathe.
My lungs are dry, no longer in use,

Yet they release me of my burden.
Smoke appears from
My mouth, curls with the
Air, wind that blows softly.

The rays from the sun shine
Through my body…
They feel like…. a curse,
Loving and shaming, disregarding

My figure. I fall into a trance,
What I used to call sleep,
And realize too late that…
I have been drifting.

An empty road,
A deserted, silent path,
Strangely under-grown,
But there are little toads hopping…

I inspect,
My interest strangely sparked,
And through these tiny creatures,
I conclude…

He never would have meant it;
A pawn in a silly game.
If he only knew… that
The tide is washing, up and down, washing.

A flawless life…
Brush your perfect finger across
Your lovers; you cannot touch me,
However, and I will not touch you.

I will not touch these blades of grass,
These tiny figures, their wetness in the night, and
The softness of my fingertips tells you of
All the things I have never touched.

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Rudyard Kipling


Comments (1)

good write. it's confusing at parts but only due to my lack of imagination. rated it 10