Today She’s Finally Letting Go

Today she’s finally letting go,

She’ll give her past the slip;

Regrets like raindrops gently flow

From empty fingertips.

naked branch.jpg

Hefty while she clutched them tight,

These burdens, weightless, slide;

Regarded from her newfound height,

She fancies they were lies.

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Accession

dangler

Death becomes her, highlights power

In this final golden hour;

It takes strength to grant demise

To Less, that More would be the prize.

Solemn spill, these dreams that fall,

Graveyard draped in leafy pall;

Wail she will, while pain is fresh –

But soon, her bones will gain new flesh.

 

 

 

I, Rapunzel

Rapunzel

I, Rapunzel, clutched the tighter to my golden mane;

You, the wooer, prince and fighter, struggled to unchain

All those strands that held me captive to the distant past;

Strangled hopes and maladaptive dreams I had amassed

Like treasure chests with broken stocks, reduced by time to rust;

Death had killed my golden locks, and crumbled them to dust.

‘Let down your hair!’ your battle cry resounded in the dark;

But tendons tightened, terrified of barren branches; stark

My thoughts, unclothed my heart, as hope dared warm my blood;

One by one upon the start, and then a torrent flood

Descended in a golden cloud, until I stood unveiled –

Beneath my feet, a golden shroud, where former visions paled.

And now I wait, a bare-skinned maid, my Prince has won me fair;

For with the spring, I’ll grow new braids, fresh dreams will crown my hair.

Great Expectations

foliage

 

The seeds of Great Expectations rooted deep,

but she tasted their fruits not in the fair soil of trinkets

fashioned from sturdy stems,

cabinetry of beauty and elegance

displaying the wares of Kings,

nor in the expression of the printed page,

pouring forth speech from pulpy loins.

Less still the warmth of a billion fires,

songs of a billion kettles

as her fuel gave Man comfort from the endless darkness.

It came, not in the power and might

of the straight-rimmed arrow’s shaft

or the machinations of the torture room,

but in the beautiful irony of Life –

the abandonment of her burdens,

 bouquet of ultimate surrender.

Here, where she came to terms with her brokenness,

her truest beauty harvested

Great Expectations.