Poetry, Reflections, Stories...

“Thirsty…”

My mouth is filled with cotton…

My tongue is swollen…

My skin is dry and scaly…

“Water… please,” I hear myself beg

in a breathy croak.

Laughter answers, at my expense,

“There is no water for you today…

Only blood.”

A glass is placed before me on the table,

crystal clear and clean.

Slowly filling with viscous red

thick and clinging…

I cringe away, dry eyes closing against the sight.

“Not of your liking?,” the Voice mocks.

Shaking my head, vehemently,

I can only whisper in response…

“Who…?  Whose…?”

but I cannot finish the thought.

“Does it matter to whom it once belonged?,”

the Voice questions me.

“The blood of innocents…

“The blood of criminals…

“All are equally damned…

And their blood is on your hands!”

“NO!,” I cry, “that isn’t true!…

“I have no say over what they do!

“I am an observer here, nothing more or less…

“My role is only to witness, but not to intervene!”

“Have it your way then, and die of thirst!

“It matters not to me…

“Just don’t come back here whining of your loss or grief

when all have ceased to be!”

Silence settles in the darkened room…

feelings churn within…

the Weaver works her loom.

And every breath I take

is another moment lost

to Choice and Fate…

“I’m thirsty…” I mouth the words,

throat too dry to speak.

Trembling from the fears and tears

my eyes are too dry to cry…

Gentler now, the Voice envelops me…

“Water will not quench your thirst this time…

“The Fire burns within.

“You can only choose to live or die

“now that the transformation has begun.”

“Choose your allies, choose your friends,

“choose which side to represent…

“But understand that Others

“will choose as they see fit!”

Nodding my understanding, I wrestle with my choice.

Letting go…?

Or hanging on…?

To see where this might lead.

And finally…

Finally…

The suffering I feel…

within, and all around me

becomes too real to resist…

Reaching for that glass

a choice is made..

***

My arm is covered in scales now, both gold and green…

My fingers become talons, sharp and eager to rend…

Wide wings unfurl upon my back…

While the flesh of my enemies calls out to me.

Lifting my heavy head,

now resting upon a sinuous neck…

I own my Truth…

I claim my place…

Of all the monsters I have ever faced

the greatest one is Me!

 

Advertisements
Standard

11 thoughts on ““Thirsty…”

  1. Ho, dragon tamer! I love this poem.

    The funny coincidence here is that my son Adam, who just got back from treatment (bless his heart – he is on a good path now, thankfully) is experiencing extremely dry eyes to the point that he can barely see. So he’s using moisturizing drops and gel for his eyes and is taking good care of himself. Since he can’t see out of his left eye, we are all doing our best to remain calm. At least for now, he is at peace with his own inner dragon and is taming it to the best of his ability. Your poem reminded me of his journey, and of course my own. Blessed be.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So vivid in my mind…or in my emotions…they intermingle while reading this, so I cannot pinpoint the origin here. But I agree, powerful is the perfect emotional response here. I could see the transformation of the “monster within”, it is richly engraved on my mind. Beautifully done, Lisa ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s