Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

restored by nature

 

the pearls of february

knitted themselves into a tapestry

that lasted until june,

and i laid covered in the snow;

the very thing you said you'd rescue me

from became my demise—

i rose from the shadows of 

dreams i could no longer remember,

and constructed myself clumsily

on the wings of my love for you;

but you shot down the plane

watched as it crashed into the ocean and burned—

it felt like an eternity

before i was healed of your name,

but nature has a habit of sewing me back together

in peace and washing away the debris

of the most ugly humans.

real monsters 

 

monsters are real

they're disguised in flesh

call themselves humans

some are good

others bad,

and others still shades between;

i remember how our kiss

startled the leaves from trees

i thought we were usagi and maramou

with a love so pure

turns out it was more like prince charming

and cinderella—

you'd leave me in the wood

to find another,

and so i discovered the worst monsters

pretend they are good to devour

the hearts of unsuspecting maidens and lads

without a morsel of regret.

your own misery

what you don't understand is

i am the phoenix, i am the sun, i am the flames

your blood will be etched in the sun set

when my fury is done with you;

you told me once

when the flowers grew and the bees flew

and snow melted that i had no

temper—

as a child of winter

i think you thought your coldness was a sacred

white that could not be burned

even if you were not as pure as ivory driven snow,

and you expected that i would succumb 

to your power;

but i am a wild summer's child

born and built of flame

whose wings never retire

i will reconstruct myself from the ashes of any chaos—

so i think this is the part where i say checkmate

take back control of my life and watch you fall into the 

mires of your own misery.