A Separate Universe

2


 
 I always wanted to fly.

 

A SEPARATE UNIVERSE

A chemical – releasing energy, grasping
threads from life – no mental block, perfect
form like an eagle in flight, effortlessly
performing, sibilant nature
seeking new adventure, pooling
with criticism, providing a larger ego to
reach the top – a Universe, alone belonged
to her – crossing mighty rivers –
infallible pride.

 

Her field of view – foretold
prediction – the omen – her public
speaker – rearranged her expertise.
Execute this bodily creation –
sporadic limbs no longer create,
engrossed with compelling idle thoughts.
Shoot me – attack this phantom!”
Cracking ceramic glaze baked on skin – a
specter locked within –

Visualizing a separate Universe
not seen before – like nuclear war
wiping out familiar ground
drastically changing a world around.

She met the traitor – a director
of our Universe dished our uncertainty –
she
fought, screamed, and protested every
word – tossed to the ground – splattered
glass – ignored as if  not around.

Antagonized by fate – she plunged back
to the world where eagles flew.
to
spread her wings – to lift her pride
and continue to survive on this journey
of the unknown.

Knocked down by thrusts of lightening,
violently pulled by the eye of a storm –
escaped but with additional scars yet
determined to survive – flying above
forceful waves at a familiar shore.

Directed – into a splice of former life –
picked apart my brain – found
proper pieces to cultivate –
some succumbed immediate death
left with one millimeter among
ten thousand threads –
bolstering echoes of success.

Plans digested as dreams fade –
layer after layer – pain disappeared
delivered to be observed by a Universe
for now  – she may be the eagle in flight?

Note – Written for all those who should
take chances to change and fly as if they had wings.
 
 

(c)2010 all rights reserved – Nancy Duci Denofio

2 Comments
  1. Claudette Walker says

    So true!

  2. Nancy Duci Denofio says

    Thanks Claudette for taking your time, which is limited, to read my work. Love ya, Nancy

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