Thrill Alone ~ #Poetry #Prose

A stolen moment...captured on the banks of the lake where we were never wanted.
They have no idea of the path beaten through the brambles by feet unworthy.
So close once to being there with papers...formal ownership
when we believed such things existed.

How is it possible to divide the the invincible? There was a time I never thought it was.
Like the seasons...like warranty deeds
everything changes hands eventually...why would I assume
we were somehow different...immune to the genocide born within out hearts.

Wonder if they know how often we slipped into their drink naked, contamination under a full moon
Trespassing upon lands brought forth by our mother, stolen by our father, and sold
traded for paper and status, now fenced, like so many bleeding hearts
trapped in the fear of being alone.

You can feel her dying. Each year, she slips away a little more
sacrificed in the name of progress
This year I will miss her. The moments. The sunsets.
and those illicit memories, drifting away, like the smoke that fueled our courage

I can smell Spring now, despite the snow and ice that still decorate the banks
but the brambles remain dead, late blooms hardly visible
the thrill is not nearly the same alone.
There is no fear of leaving footprints in the snow...no adrenalin rush from fear of being caught

Knowing I'll not return, I want to holler...stamp my feet in the treacherous March mud
and scream how dare you.

Yet...it's only my own heart, that knows why.  


It's that time of week again...pulling out the words for OpenLinkNight at dVersePoets...