NA ( / Kingston, Ontario.)

My Maelstrom

It’s a rock song and I won’t let you in it
Step away from my maelstrom
Bits of torn metal shred me to bits to submit
My soul to the earsplitting blast of drums
My ritual, my solace, my temple, my worship
The trigger of my emotions
Sunken away underneath layers of sealed lips
My core, my firstborn

My hands shut off the air swept inside you
Until blue death is done
Black sky, bludgeoned clouds, yellow full moon
Pray, pray for the saving sun
Wind with teeth and nails rakes at the rim
Of rivers where troubled waters run
My conquests, my weaknesses and nightmares of love
The candles I assembled to burn
The labyrinth where light is eventually lost
Shutter up and bid that I return

But the fire sings through my inner being ceaselessly
I am thrilled, singed, forged, and stung
Stone upon stone build the monument you may honor for me
In the future when I am reborn
It’s the howling voice of echoes calling me out
Through the darkness, led by my maelstrom
Kissing me obscenely with sticky cold on the mouth
Making my very breath its own
My moments, my memories, my melodrama
Sucked ever so slowly upon
Draining the drips you nailed in and pushing you further
Out of my rock song

The lid is off and I’m losing all feeling
The cuts make me numb
You wait for a rainbow but will I ever be entirely free
Being caught in the storm so long?
It’s a light tap dance at the edge of a precipice
This duel fought with my maelstrom
Down the cliff sprinkle chipped off particles of me
In the end you might have to stand alone.

User Rating: 4,3 / 5 ( 3 votes ) 4

Comments (4)

Wow Natasha, this really blew me away, I read it feeling all tingly inside, can't describe it otherwise. Your biog is so fresh and honest and inspiring, I'm looking forward to reading more of yours. Just brilliant! HG: -) xx
You pulled me in to this rock song. The music of your soul pours out on the page.
this is a very powerful poem...emotions run real deep...sorrow and pain are quite like a storm that make us stand on a precipice...this way or depends on your strength...loved the poem...write
It is wonderful to find some one with the grace, the rhythm, the imagery, the alliteration, the content to keep me wanting more. Storms are good for the storm.