Moody Girl and Untitled Man

I write poetry every now and then. This offering is the product of this mood funk I'm in.

Untitled Man



Your lesson is to learn to let him go.
Let him go. Let go.
You know.

I will do it, Mother, I will.
I know how.

Then you know it will hurt you, dear one.
Close your eyes and I will help you.

Shred the bark from the trees,
Blast the dirt into the air for miles,
Incinerate the face of the entire world,
Leave nothing alive.

Rage, raise your flaming arms and burn the very air.
Shake the planets like dice.
Close in around the sun, crush it, crush it.
Leave nothing as it was.

Let him go. Let him go. Let him go.

Turn now.
Turn.
Turn.

Swirling now, going up.
Wrap yourself in everything you've destroyed.
Swirl, like a tornado, that's the way.
Carry everything away.

The earth is a steel ball now.

Naked, standing, eye to eye.
Don't approach. Don't hold. Don't touch.
He's gone. He's gone. He's gone.
(Close your eyes, dear one.
I will help you.)

Your lesson was to learn to let him go.
The scorpion's now stung herself to death.
Remind yourself if should you think of him and join him,
and forget.

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.