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Sanctuary

A poem

By Moyana GebhardtPublished 11 months ago 1 min read

I built

A sanctuary

For every soul

I encountered

Having lacked

The solace

Myself

It became

Paramount

To be that

For others

But a funny

Thing

Happened

I was

Uncomfortable

When others

Seemed

Happy

To recover

Within my walls

I was

In pain

After the

Satisfaction

Wore off

When I

Looked around

And had

Nowhere to sit

My long legs

And aching hips

ill fitting

As I watched

Them feast

On the vines

I’d grown

One day

I started

Rearranging

The furniture

Bought a new chair

Changed the locks

Hung some new art

A bit of candle light

But they became unhappy

And when I came back

From my gardens

Squatters

Had broken in

Eyes

Full of accusation

How dare you

Disturb our comfort

How dare you

Change anything

I shriveled away

In guilt

In despair

I toiled in the

Garden

Unsure

Where to put my love

How to balance

My care

One night

Lightning struck

A crack

A fissure

Snaked down

Through the foundation

In the smallest

Space of time

My sanctuary

Crumbled

They scattered

The ones I’d

Kept my doors open

For so long

Angry glances back

Shouting

Through the city

Accusing

Blaming

She’s a liar

She’s a psychopath

She’s not who

She says she is

Look what she did

So I took

The tiniest bits

Of myself

A match

And some starlight

And traveled far

Through mountains

And stone

Until the smell

Of betrayal

Dissipated

Changed my name

And sat in the rain

I began to build

Something inside

This time

Just for me

I blew tobacco

Smoke

To fend off

Anyone who noticed

My light

And spoke

The ancient tongue

Freely

Because it feels

Like home

And I can feel

Something solid

Four corners

Stable

Lit by a canopy

Of stars

Held by solid

Stone

Inside

My body

It’s peace

That is mine

Alone

Unshakable

I’m not as

Welcoming

To opinions

Or suggestions

Or advice

But I’m comfortable

Somehow

In my own world

And I wonder

What I can build

Now

With my own hands

For my own soul

heartbreakart

About the Creator

Moyana Gebhardt

Artist of life, oracle and friend to the spirits, Beloved, thinker, feeler, misfit, seeker of truth. Self published author. Neurodivergent. Mother of 4. At a crossroads. Anima mundi:: linktr.ee/moyana

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Comments (1)

  • Heather Pennington11 months ago

    I am feeling this one deeeep down. Sending love.

Moyana GebhardtWritten by Moyana Gebhardt

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