A Separate Universe


 I always wanted to fly.



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 –
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.
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

  1. Avatar of Claudette Walker
    Claudette Walker says

    So true!

  2. Avatar of Nancy Duci Denofio
    Nancy Duci Denofio says

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

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