Withering on a vine,
solitary
I forgot the colors of the sky
for the sun was in my eyes, blinding me
Though it was there,
I could not see the light
but could feel the burning of the flesh
and the yearning of the spine
Then I stumbled
I tumbled
Down on the floor with delirious eyes
I saw no hope, no life in sight
My own suffering torment
would not disappear in time — to save me
But grave me…
somehow I was lifted to the other side
where the grass is really greener
My spine no longer crooked
Clarity of color in my eyes
This is mine,
where I was meant to be at this very moment
On a bus to the future,
wind blowing through my hair,
without a care and full of passion
I am becoming
I am aware
To view more from this author pick up a copy of the Spring/Summer 2018 issue of The Stray Branch.