Into the morning she rises from mourning to night from the East to the West, endogenous aglow with refracted light. She slips beyond the imaginary line to reappear bright and cheery, whether it is felt or shown or worn, whether or not she has a choice. Chained to her task spinning and spun in reverse, West to East her star will rise and fall, skirts a-swirl and swell burnt orange in fiery hues. An onyx sea of midnight envelopes her blurred edges, soothes her furrowed brow, and a sad smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, goes unanswered. 2023
Category: Poems
O! The mystery of the mask…
At the precise time, the right time…
To be seen, discovered
…
Myself.