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.
.
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
Excellent. I love this 😉
I do apologise for not visiting as often as I would want to. My time is very limited now.
I sure don’t get around like I used to either – only in fits and starts, and then I am so behind on my reading that I can’t get to everyone and just give up. Not to worry – it’s summer! Take ‘er easy! 🙂
Thanks for understanding Melody
I started off so gung-ho – I suppose it was simply inevitable that I wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace at some point. So – yes, I DO understand!!
perennial strength and purpose ~so are we! Wonderful analogy as usual !
Thank you Deb!
I am SO ready, Mel. Well done poem. God bless you BIG.
Your poetry just keeps getting better and better, Melody. I love your line breaks and the depth of this. Thank you!!
Thanks so much, Debbie. I really appreciate that…
You have such a creative & poetic mind in the thoughts that come with your photos!
🙂 Thanks Rosy. It just happens – I can’t help it. What I see helps me to explain how I feel, what I am learning, what I think about life. And then you all come a long for the ride!
🙂