Borders
I found you wandering
I find myself on a barren cliff,
awash with wishes and promises,
look downs and let downs
a life-lived behind hollowed borders
stained blood on walls,
that make believe of freedom
"I found you wandering", you say
black feet on white sand,
white sun on tanned skin
"are you lost?",
"can I help?",
Help who? Who am I?
barley human
a stain on the consciousness
white privilege, truth-be-told
black mark on the greenback
"I was lost, but now I am found",
on the edge of a cliff,
arm-stretched freedom below
"stay here", you say
"you are safe",
"you are loved",
"you are human",
for a moment,
I stay
About the Creator
Rebecca Ridsdale
she/her
Earthy and funny. Intense and structured. Poetry is passion. The rest is practice.
Owner of Four Truth Wellness and Soul Travel Hypnosis
https://www.fourtruthhypnosis.com/ and https://soultravelhypnosis.com/
Keep reading
More stories from Rebecca Ridsdale and writers in Poets and other communities.
Hall of mirrors
Things used to matter, before all the noise. And at that time when things still had meaning, there had been dreaming too, when dreams still mattered. And the brightest dream from those times was full of mountains and seas and smiles and the types of passion that absorbs you the way a dog is absorbed by witnessing something for the first time: with absolute presence, and awe.
By Giulia Viti2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
❤ that landed with certainty. Love your sincerity.