Of Nature

Forest

Feathers fall in the forest,

through the cracks of the early morning sun,

footprints buffered by waves that hit shore- they too fade,

for like seasons that flitter past the underbelly of a tomb, she weathers it all,

weighed down with armour, past the-

obscene feathers glistening with an acid curling of poisoned dreams

Those doors locked shut should never be opened,

the storms of sorrow that pull the corners,

like phantom strings of a ventriloquist’s muse,

marooned on the shipwreck of her youth,

it grows roots, flames that lick the skin of furnished walls,

Porcelain figures, shaken loose from oiled pages kept in shadows

For Hell is here.

Shrouded by grotesque wisps; eye sockets distorted; shattered,

don’t touch – don’t look,

through lantern flames she weaves through the deepest part of night,

whispering with strength beyond the raging of a tempest- ’follow me’,

and reflected beyond the seductive eyes of a devil- you do.

Storm

Dirt flecks spew the ground as I
dash through the puddles
like rivers that seep on tarmac,
water moulds my skin;
a black lava
mirroring the growling sky above.

My limbs flail through
a moment of stillness
as raindrops shudder,
waiting for that beam
of sunlight to illuminate
all in sparkling white and gold.

Dissolving into grey,
raining dust
as the heavens split their seams
humouring the belly
of a carnivorous beast that
winks as the light fades.

Copyright © by Kate W J White
(All Rights Reserved)
Photo by Pure Julia, Unsplash