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Fleur Du Mal -> RE: Weird Poetry (3/19/2011 20:11:32)
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The Unformed
Deep lines on my mother's face, dusk-painted
In my mind etched with nails of pain
Her ashen dress floated in the breeze
then fell still against the floor
as she closed the shutters
and turned to me,
”That wind is the breath of your father,
it's time for you to go.”
Sharp blades of grass against my legs
In the forest to where she pointed my steps
Her finger shivering like the leaves above my head
ready to fall for winter
as she closed the past
and turned away,
That wind breathes her life hereafter,
it's time to let go.
Shredded fabric hanging from the branches
Crows picking clean the forfeit bones of soldiers
Their spirits unformed and left without a home,
howling in the aether
as I walked along the road
and turned away
That wind is the breath of my father,
it's time for me to go.
Sacred ground crying under my soles torn
Forbidden battlefields spreading across my vision
In the middle stood the shrine that is no more
crumbling apart in the wind
as my father exhaled
and turned to me,
”This breath draws your life hereafter,
it's time for you to let go.”
Broken sword in the reach of my trembling heart
Covered with the dried blood of the unformed
Their thoughts still howling and praying above
choosing life even past midwinter
as I grabbed the iron
and turned to him
”This breath is mine to draw hereafter,
it's time for you to let go!”
Snowstorm cast on the forest for hours and hours
Ripping the crust apart, twisting the blistering trees
In the eye of the blizzard fought I and father
faith upon fate in the dark
as my father fell
and turned away,
This wind is the breath of your daughter,
it's time for you to go.
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