forge

Soft light and shadows play upon the stoop that is the house of my memory. Some doors are shut while others have no hinges. This is a house of loss, and dancing devils. It is a place that I neither enter lightly nor leave without scars. Some are sharp like the rub between forefinger and thumb. A coin is tossed while the things I love are lost. Pain ebbs like the tide leaving me breathless. Memories fade and I forget who once I was or where I belong. Like a wraith I go unnoticed amongst a vain and vicious land. Sanity becomes like the finest thread of silk, the turmoil of time and the weathered storm of humanity leaves the fiber frayed. Limits reached, silent screams echo down the corridors of my mind. Tossed and broken I am helpless on a tide of regret. Laden with guilt, fueled by hate I am like unto a beast bent and determined to survive. With hardened heart I tear and rend all who would stand upon my neck.

When I was low and bent from standing alone I came upon her in this wilderness. When I approached her she did not flinch nor did she shy from my gaze. Reaching out her touch was like the softest petal caressing where others had sought only to strike and gain control. Her lips she laid upon my scars like they were her own. Her grace and compassion has laid waist to the beast leaving it gentled at her feet. In her I have found something outside of others. In her I have found something greater than hate.


-Kim