Her soul is arid
desert-dry and barren
crushed grains of sand
slipping between her fingers.
Desiccated and bereft of all that could have been,
hiding within herself
she cowers in the face of all that life has thrown at her.
Harsh winds have turned her into a husk
of her former, vibrant self.
She feels safer, protected behind these unscalable walls
but what price safety, if she is
A woman as an island,
separated from a succulent oasis
is no woman at all.
Here is a poem, inspired by the WordPress Daily Prompt, which today is ‘desert’. Why not have a go yourself? Poetry, short fiction, stream of consciousness – let your imagination run wild!
I protect myself with iron
with chain-link, I defend myself
you may not breach the battlements
I do not consent
it’s safer that way
– for me –
I will not take the risk
I will not let you in
hemmed in isolation protects me
from the rest of you
I am still at my own mercy
the most destructive force of all
Here’s my entry into the WordPress Daily Prompt, where today’s word is ‘fence’. Please do check in to read other entries!
the flaking paint
the silvered wood
the empty chair memorial
in the silent square
the milling group
– hardly a crowd – silenced
the ghost memories, phantom scars
pressing, beseeching, begging, needing
I remember the darkness beyond those doors –
those doors that had witnessed
tragedies a thousand-fold
the cold-sweat terrors
the children torn from their parents’ grasp
in hindsight –
I thought I would try to write my entry today for both dVerse Poetics – where the theme is ‘doors’, thank you Lillian for hosting – and the WordPress Daily Prompt – where the theme is ‘Generation’. I hope I succeeded!
Both of the images are from the Krakow Ghetto, where I was fortunate to visit (if that’s the right word) a few years ago. The empty chair memorial is incredibly moving, for me in the lump in the throat kind of a way. The homes, the remnants, which are still inhabited, are dilapidated, and I can hardly imagine what the conditions must have been like during the ghetto’s existence. The picture at the top is of one of the houses, behind one of the few remaing parts of the ghetto wall. (I didn’t take these particular photos).
Anyway, if you want to read other writer’s offerings, or take part yourself in either or both of these writing prompts, please click the links above.