The Nudge of the Refugee

pink-lily-bud.jpg

 

Taught to remain dead from the womb,

she walks among tombs, whitewashed

crypts concealing skeletal remains

of 1,000 generations, closets clammy

.

and fungal. She bites the apple

of her ancestors which, ever since

Newton wed Granny Smith, dictates

a hard fall. The System says, ‘Stay! Be

.

at home with Depravity, shake hands

with Despair! Dry bones can but rattle,

dead men can but dance.’ But she feels the

nudge of the Refugee, the rebellion of

.

soiled skin; when she opens her eyes

to Truth, she finds her mantle is but a

rented chrysalis. When they take the final

tally, her casket will be an empty husk,

.

with hinges rusted like dry blood, an

apple seed rooted through its temple.

Laughing at Gravity, she will rise

on the wings of the dawn, emancipated.

 

.

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12 comments on “The Nudge of the Refugee

  1. Alastair says:

    Excellent. I love this 😉

    I do apologise for not visiting as often as I would want to. My time is very limited now.

  2. perennial strength and purpose ~so are we! Wonderful analogy as usual !

  3. I am SO ready, Mel. Well done poem. God bless you BIG.

  4. Debbie says:

    Your poetry just keeps getting better and better, Melody. I love your line breaks and the depth of this. Thank you!!

  5. RoSy says:

    You have such a creative & poetic mind in the thoughts that come with your photos!

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