She Was Free

She stood upon her weary raft Oar in her hand dipped in dark bath With every row she rippled suds Within the shadows deep as bloods Traversing dead lilies and stenching muds Oar scraping roots and sounding thuds On muddy fronds on fallen logs Hardly seen through misty fogs The moon was new, completely hidden Concealed with leaves, the stars forbidden And the air was nothing, a blackened ink It smelled of death, a sulfur stink When she grew tired, deprived of might She sat down and decided to write Out from under her pitch black sleeve She pulled a pen that lit the sea She penned a page with gentle flicks The page burned up like candle wicks The mud dissolved with dead mangroves The sea became a land of troves Endless pages couldn’t describe What her twinkling eyes imbibed How curious, though… She held up her pen, Another wick burned And darkness again! She dipped her feet in the liquid void Placed back in her sleeves, the bright styloid She noticed spiders in their webs Little tadpoles in their mossy beds Maybe most would be displeased Find this place to be diseased But she realized it only had one wrong It was her–she needs to get along! “I shouldn’t force it to suit me” She said and commenced her journey ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She wanted sleep and slowed her pace Laid down on quiet remnants of space Resting her head upon a tree Finally lost, she was free~