Woman In Chains
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Here, away from the weight of strain
where domestic thorns are spiked and ripped,
she entangles her damp hair
then bares frozen sighs, running barefoot
along softened meadow grounds;
her soul cleansed by moonglow's peace,
forced not to yield to a man's cycle
of incessannt rage, as moist eyes
float with the new moonlight's gentleness
rendering herself empowered once more
against the hissing of pierced words ,
lesions marked on a slammed body... until
a balmy oak offers a hammock of strength,
while she tries to grasp the truth; aware now
that an alliance quite violent is illusion's bite.
Mindful, she knows she must return home,
to finally unchain herself from the shackles
of his vicious game... it is all over.
John Hamilton's Woman in Chains Contest
8/29/2020
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2020
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