Tearing Down The Marble Arch

I set down, my favorite seat
facing north, a symbol of freedom-
a new country was before me, laid out
a stellar map of earth and wood, God's country.

I was founded that day, a new wind rose within me,
telling me to venture there, to go beyond
that which had held me at a distance. For so long,
I begged for death in mindless ramblings,
thoughtless prayers to God, or someone more unwilling to listen-

At this point, the past matters not, did you know that?
I glanced from my seat towards the crack in the window,
a matrix reborn of itself- mirror image
I, the elect heart, who forged it all with a tear.

I remember, I used to tear at your seams, invisible,
you rarely notice the way I move, or sway through this room
like a ghost's reflection in a well of water-
I see the past this way,
you notice the ripples, don't you?
and I, the voice of one wind you can never answer.

I walked the cemetery, last night in my dream, you were there
standing beside your tomb, the rock had moved, been rolled away
and it was I now, laying in the grave-

you were always more angelic, more full of something-
I dare not call it life.

by Amberlee Carter

Comments (1)

This is quite beautiful. Funny how the wind is often overlooked except to the one who stops to breathe it in deeply and take the time to notice it's temperature on one's cheek. Just thought I'd share that with you... adria