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~
Copyright © Luna Schwartz | Year Posted 2023
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