revering what shouldn’t be revered

but only through fences
through iron wires that cut my sight
only through fingers that open just enough
to give shape to crimson mountains
only through movements,
directions that change before my head does,
only through noise, cheap talk:
“It was never my fault.”
“They say it’s depression.”
“If you believe in it, everything works. Even witchcraft.”

I can see the light of what I lack.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s