These bones they ache.
Against the Earth they quake.
With tears I shake.
I might be a million...
Perhaps I am ageless.
I am a new mind, old soul, weathered body.
Before.
I was young- I thought this made me strong.
Yet I am weak.
Poised Solemnity:
I smiled as if there was nothing there.
For people to see was my greatest fear.
I aimed for calm perfection, a solid face.
Yet I felt sadness and pain leaking from me...
a poisonous mace.
My Eyes.
I kept them down...
Yet I looked up.
For I was strong.
YEARS WENT ALONG WITH A POWERFUL, YOUTHFUL STRIDE
LAUGHING AT ME AS THEY FELT THE LIFE SLIDE
At nineteen, I was old.
Forced to know decades of pain
from youth to my grave
No In-Between
Rites of passage did not exist.
Only a never-ending list
Of what to do
What to take
How to survive
Why struggle through life yet yearn to die
has god turned his evil eye?
My young mind pounds against its cage
Why? was it given this meager wage:
An instrument of possibility
Shackled by my health's limited ability.
Health this is not health
Life this is not life
My Eyes
are stuck open
half my body suffers its common paralysis
yet, suddenly, the shackles begin to crack
my tomb is broken open
I AM WEARY,
LET ME REST.
Tschüss!
Marta Frieda Hart
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