Zara Lane Poet Ballade

No Thining Back

alone at last with no masks no faces spying on me

alone with my past my merry mirror 

all the corners my once quick hands, have turned to spiders 

cautiously they advance cross the lined face,

reacting to disguises 

staring back with their same tremors, my hands, cautious, 

advance ac ross face feeling at mirrors. 

With these same tremulous hands that can scarcely hold glass 

I was 17 years old and my heart was hot and alive 

i discovered poetry and i swore to longing. 

I was afraid fist time i felt threatened 

and began to protect myself from the sting of hail. 

why do you insist on showing me, 

day after day, these sockets that used to be my eyes? 

i see below the twin ridge, too high rise of bone,

the bridge of my nose and suddenly into a lake 

the lake is my eye, it sucks under, and i traverse your skin 

to embrace the lake as little girl who still resides in me 

i embrace inside me. 

everything is summed up in one magic instant.
Zara Elizabeth Lane
Copyright ©2007 Zara Elizabeth Lane

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