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THAT WISE BIRD

PHOTO BY PEXELS

A hollow in my heart.

Dungeon borders my soul,

Heavily guarded by an army of woes.

Dejection tramples on my spirit,

Kindred connections disbarred.

There is murkiness in the distance,

The road marred with desolation.

Oh this deafening silence!

Pungent taste of reality;

A realm I now dwell in.

Compression infests my movement,

But I persevere.

Stare without blinking,

Yawn without sleeping…

This pain is heavy.

Yet the notion to proceed persists within.

Song of the Sparrow,

In the touching distance.

Whistle of serenity; a sound of hope.

In an instant, my despondency effaced,

Like a mid evening fog.

I exhaled, with such precision.

The soldiers retreated and left for home,

Just as I was going home…

Never will I look back.

Should the pathway behind crumble,

Like an ill-fated stack of dominoes,

I will not see.

With the winds of change blowing at my side,

A singing Sparrow to symbolically guide.

Forward motion is now my stride…

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

CLOAK OF JUDAS

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

Worn cloth albeit of beads and sequins,

Woven and interlaced of a distinct textile.

Custom made for the vile creature,

Who dons an impostrous smile,

In hopes that the fox will cry.

Leads his flock to an arid desert,

Fruitless and impoverished,

Where lioness grow manes.

They walk the beat.

Only lull speaks volumes.

River stream a horizon’s touch away,

These parched lips quiver.

Vinegar is the taste,

Just before it all vanishes.

Is this a mirage gone awry?

Do you add insult to my confusion?

No stench of ignorance here,

This is not bliss!

Walking this cracked surface,

Naked in truth and integrity,

And you stride alongside,

Clothed in deceit and dishonesty,

I visualize ending this,

Antagonizing relay race.

The baton shall fall.

You see…

Forthrightness always creeps in,

Like an innocent child,

Waiting anxiously to be held.

No revelation to my enemies,

Will be made.

You are never to kiss this cheek.

Despair has left a scar upon my back,

A colossal pillar of strength,

Materializes within me.

Samson you are not.

Weakness becomes you,

And withering is imminent.

Impending arrests are for naught,

The army has retired.

Bare will be the palm of your hands,

For there are no pieces of silver,

To collect.

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.

SANCTUM

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

There is that space,

Between dream and reality,

Where you get to float.

Soar without ceasing,

Weight not in existence,

And timeless is the glow.

Free of mystery,

Unbound to burdens.

To shun,

The abyss of the night;

The labyrinth of the day…

Let not your,

Inner being thirst.

Seize your haven!

Your realm is real.

Yes…

Between the charcoal dusk,

And the ember dawn,

Embrace your moment.

However miniscule,

It is where,

Euphoria thrives.

(c) Monica St Hillaire.

HEAVEN SENT

PHOTO BY PIXABAY
You are my diamond honey...
My perfectly imperfect gem.
The radiation you give,
Transcends within me,
To a point of no return.
Oblivious, like a lamb,
That has strayed from the fold.
Amidst the rough and rubble,
Among the condemned,
The unforsaken...
I would discover this most,
Precious and astounding jewel.
Profuse in flaws and perfection.
Bittersweet -
The taste in life you offer.
A balance and weight I endure,
With sheer amazement.
The hand you hold,
This very moment,
Is forever here to stay.
As soon as the dawn breaks,
Let's be the paradigm,
Of this new day.
Quintessential diamond,
You are to me, honey...
And I couldn't love you more.


(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.