Sunday, November 22, 2015

T.A. Schwaab- A Poem

    The Apple
           She wandered the house
With the ghosts
Of those who had been
The ones in the coffin before her.

She did not think
Herself white as snow
Or pure as fresh rain
But she had still bitten
The apple, fallen from poison
And lay in her own death.
But she realized someone
Had thought her a threat,
That she could take their place
Because their fear
Had manifested into her
Last breath of life

She wished she had dreamed
Or even remembered
What had come before
But her new life
Was a new beginning.

When she looked out
The glass still encasing her,
Everything was different
There was color around her,
Greens and blues
Of the land and the sky,
Against the paleness of her skin,
They almost seemed to sparkle.

Was it just the newness of it all,
Fresh breath after
Long stale air
Around a slowly rotten apple
Leaving her lungs,
She pulled herself upright
Did she need to return here
Again and again
After every failing,
Hide herself away from the world
In a way where
People believed her long gone,
Missed her voice,
And mourned her loss.

It’s not necessary
To die to each failure
Before awaking to another attempt,
Just a breath,
At the end of the journey,
It was just a breath
That gave her the strength
To start again.

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