poetry

She Stood Alone On The Edge Of Darkness. {poetry}

Through forests of emerald-green bliss

She pranced,

Embracing the colors of endless play —

The rainbows of summer.

She was a child of the earth.

 

Her tiny voice sang,

And she danced!

No danger lurked in her twinkling eyes.

Everything in her fearless laughter

Was colored with mirth.

 

She built castles on the shore

By a peaceful and provident sea

That was never foreboding.

She skipped beneath the golden clouds

Like the world belonged to her,

As if there were no cares

And all who loved her

Would keep her safe.

“Do not lose her,” I said.

“Do not lose that child.

She needs you so desperately.”

 

Then she had this grave fear of the sea,

This somber foreboding.

It seemed so vast and so deep

From the shore,

A leviathan-green, hellish monstrosity

Full of strange creatures that devoured things.

It was all that lay between her

And some faraway place

On the other side of the globe.

Somehow, it was not so frightening now.

Neither was the past,

The present,

Or all the future obscurities —

Not even those people she once had cherished.

The peace of the waters subdued her now,

As she listened to the thrash of the waves.

She was just playing with a stick in the sand.

 

There was a noted ambiguity

Whenever she spoke of this place.

Certain moments when she embraced the glorious light

And gazed intently into the darkness.

There were moments, too,

When she felt it creep and crawl around her,

When she ached and trembled,

Longing to free herself from its grip.

 

While seething within,

She wore the mask of kindness,

Harmless and alluring,

With resentment like hemlock,

Beautiful yet wilting,

Glowing yet tarnished,

Beckoning,

Flourishing,

Standing tall,

And unyielding…

Toxic to all

In her flowering beauty.

 

The sun was setting,

Salmon clouds under a sky of Dodger blue,

Flocks of geese

On a sprawling lawn.

A waxing gibbous moon

Beckoned

Like she needed a guide,

A divine light.

“Come forth,” it said.

“Come home.”

And some of the fear waned

As she went forth,

But nothing really changed.

 

She stood alone on the edge,

In darkness,

A faint silhouette

Gazing at the night sky.

Rain fell,

A sprinkler to the trees

Thrashing in the wind.

She would flee,

Abandoning places,

Suddenly unrecognizable faces.

The glowing sun of Helios

Was a beacon

For eternal bliss,

Yet deceiving.

The caves beckoned.

Every corner,

Every crevice,

Held its own mystery,

Its truth.

Still the perilous journey

Was madness —

Pretty colors and then

Darkness.

It seemed to have no end.

She heard a child crying,

A child from long ago,

A prisoner of her soul.

Stone walls around her,

Hissing sounds,

Deep, treacherous waters —

Her mind was a fractured maze.

No one could see.

No one could hear.

No safe place to run,

She had to find the way

Out…

Home…

Every stone that healed

Brought her closer to

The truth,

The light.

The climb was steep,

But she held on,

Clawing her way

In blindness,

Accepting,

Facing,

Grieving.

Raindrops glistened on the rocks.

Flower petals littered

The wet grass.

She saw vibrant orchids

In the fading light of the moon,

And, alas,

Tranquil waters glistened

Aqua blue.

Like the ancient alchemical goddess,

She was crowned —

A newborn only beginning

To awaken,

Beginning to see,

Her soul bursting

With bliss.

The beauty within

Became the beauty

Eyes could see,

Not perfection —

Courage, perhaps…

Determination,

Defiance,

And love.

She was free.

No jewel could sparkle with

More radiance,

And the years could not tarnish its shine.

***

KyrianLyndonKyrian Lyndon is the author of Provenance of Bondage, the first book in her Deadly Veils series. She has also published two poetry collections, A Dark Rose Blooms, and Remnants of Severed Chains. Kyrian began writing short stories and fairy tales when she was just eight years old. In her adolescence, she moved on to poetry. At 16, while working as an editor for her high school newspaper, she wrote her first novel, and then completed two more novels at the ages of 19 and 25. Born and raised in Woodside, Queens, New York, Kyrian was the middle of three daughters born to immigrants — her father from Campochiaro, Italy; her mother from Havana, Cuba. She has worked primarily in executive-level administrative positions with major New York publishing companies. She resides on Long Island in New York.

***

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