Bonded to the soul
Twins created to fit the mold
Granted by divine
A partner soft and fine
Can't remember the treaty
Created not for the needy
But for those as calm as the sea
Finding peace in the serenity
Swiftly climbing to the top
Of the self-fulfilling rot
Crazed and confused
As pain is slowly loosed
Unsure of time
So I forge my shrine
To ground my love
In realising I am enough
A new world, fine and shining
A place I don’t have to go finding
It found me first, before I could take a step
No time for worry, for I’ve already lept
Sending the message
That I am clear of the wreckage
Forgetting the past
As the future comes in, fast
About the Creator
Hi, I'm Ayana.
Hi, I'm Ayana. I write poetry and prose. Usually with a spiritual/esoteric whisper ;). Tip!🌻💙
Well wishes and heavenly kisses,
Ayana
(Uh-ya-na)
IG: hi.im.ayana
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
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