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The Hollow
Where some paths lead,
not all can follow,
within the woods
there lies a hollow
that circles of fay
cannot endure,
the shadows drink
of all that’s pure.
Ersatz is the silence
that reaches the ear
when branches claw
at the base of fear,
deepening, darkening
into the night
quickening, ripening,
a demented sight.
©️ Anna S., 2021
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resilient
you smell of poetry again.
the world has grinded to
a halt, and you smell of
poetry. a child was born
a year ago, and knows
nothing of outside, to her
the whole world consists of
just her mom, dad, and those
four little walls, and yet you
smell of poetry. the world
has left that man newly
widowed with no children,
his only living relative is
on the other side of the
world and they seldom
talk, but you smell of
poetry. that doctor you
once made small talk in
the elevator of your
cousin’s building, has
just pronounced her
sixtieth death this week
but she stopped counting
months ago, and you
still smell of poetry.
tell me –
how have you not
lost your voice?
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tempest.
you swallow your breath as
thunder bleeds onto the
mauve sky, next comes the
pouring rains that are
characteristic of april,
and second comes you,
the monsoon.
i thought of barricading
myself from your stormy
winds but you prey on
boundaries. you’ve clearly
rehearsed for this, the waltzing
in and taking center stage as
spotlights fixate on you –
you put on a show as you
dismantle every part of
my ego. and by the first
warm tinge to stain the sky,
you will dissipate,
leaving me wondering
if you were even here,
but the scars tell me
otherwise.
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