by Laura Lamarca

Created on: August 29, 2008

"Wooden carvings of shuttered scent."

Curiosity led her
through the physical landscape
of her life;

it showed her the patches
of ploughed beginnings
where she had grown fearful
in sown surroundings
and where apron strings
had strung strife
around ankles and sighs.

She ran down the river
of rejection
where she had baptized her beliefs
and over hundreds of hills
where moments had meanings
and sanity relied on madness...

She was a tree-

her trunk stuffed
with the neglect and denials
of others-

a timber cross
with a one-slit window.

Silence slapped sloppy masses
of wet earth
along the seams of her survival
and a picture of her hassles
hung heavy from her heart.

Hurt's branches peered
across high-rise hopes
at walls of warming weight
and doors of dappled sunlight
explained the echoes
of early tread

and opposite of face,
where freedom forgot to fly
new faith raised soul from sorrow,
stitched huge holes
of thatched unrest.

The objects of her oppression
clanked depression
from future's clutch
and the tiny touch of tomorrow
kissed forgiveness

inside her strength.

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