Broken Angel

Surrounded by the hidden obscenity of the sky,

She coiled there naked and frayed,

Fire above the sky was as in her heart,

Ancestor’s winds carried a promise of rain,

But no amount of rain would cool her burning skin

 

Exposed under the judging eyes,

She had lost all her sensibility, earthiness and humanness,

Her dignity had been ensnared and reduced into fine dust,

She felt it disappearing into the red, hot fierce winds,

She huddled her defenseless sickly body against a million-knot gusts

 

She couldn’t,

She was small and weak,

She was a trapped powerless fly,

She took in all rain’s violence out of the tempest,

Regretting the loss of birth and of freedom

 

Violent battering rain equaled the pounding of her chest,

She hated her skin, weight and the texture of her hair,

She hated the trees and all the flowers,

She hated the sun, the moon and the stars,

 

She hated some more,

Hated the rain,

Hated her life,

…and gods,

She could only hate…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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