16 DAYS OF ACTIVISM - My poem to the fallen, but not conquered! What Remains What remains? Now after you leave me on your sheets, bruised. Tarnished. Taken from the virgin linens of my mother’s womb. Steadfast in your grip, I cannot breathe to tell you to stop. I open my eyes. Dead. Alive. Motionless, I remain. What remains? The glow of coy deception has turned a woman to her rage. Wrecked. The door, she swings from its hinges to tell me my story What little she knows of me The light I keep fades dimmer The love I breach falls slimmer. A shout. Whisper. In stillness I remain. What remains? Are the resonating words of hatred, Thrust upon my eyes like madman’s blindness. The crutch of life, it collapses under me. I fall. I break. I cry. I die. In the morning, the debris and carnage steals my mind another day. The past has left my heart fragile framed. God knows of my cries in ebony, long after the laughter of a sunshine day. My curiosity has killed me. My curiosity has freed me. And still, I remain. - Danica de La Rey
Posted on: Wed, 26 Nov 2014 12:49:33 +0000
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