Pressed Flower

Summertime, Pressed flowers – 1992 by Juice 126

Pressed Flower

that one day;
tenderly tucked –
between pages,
remembrance of beauty,
acquaintance with suffering –
{love and loss -of self}

a memory not wanting to drift
or break;
in the middle of a book,
the book;
tried to be written?
without the main character’s voice

smashed! between blank pages,
fragile living flower,
snuffed out with historic words,
forgotten its crimson color –

its own awareness –
dried up stem,
crumbling petals,
archaic image of what might have been,
what never was

lost all consciousness;
roots ripped out –
rotten soil choked its breath,
sadly placed between blank pages,
and the thumping sound of a hard book,
slammed!

The End.

~

book came crying,
crawling,
bleeding out!
words held in a dried up stem,
and fading crumbling petals –
leaving the recognition,
of who once lived

The Beginning …

~~~~

And here we are at the end of the three posts that Zoe so graciously shared on her blog at Behind the Mask of Abuse. I feel that sharing some parts of my life is part of a greater healing journey that I hope can lead to other’s healing journey and most of all let people know that they are NOT alone.

Thank you to everyone who has read my poems and my story – I am grateful beyond words at the support and encouragement that I have received. I am at a loss of words … WHAT? No worries, it will only be a short stint. 🙂

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