The Ballerina in the Jewelry Box

I woke up

and I was home,

but not in a childhood sense.

There was no one next to me,

there was no one,

but I was home.

Like that time you woke up in the hospital bed

and couldn't decide if that was what

you wanted---

Like the way in which you felt

as if you were always

on the verge

of waking up.

With a name that promised failure,

with a name that promised you would die

young and beautiful,

The way in which you'd always ask,

"Where's your guillotine necklace, princess?"

Locked doors and Friday nights,

it was 3 AM and you felt "sorry;"

There was a mysterious reservoir of tears

always flooding our backyard,

your hegemonies trying to float along to mine to bring them flowers

because they were tired of sleeping on the couch,

your hegemonies knowing nothing of communication except to ask,

"Where's your guillotine necklace, princess?"

Do I really need a childhood that leaves my heart full of paper?

Did I really need a house that kept breaking its right arm by slipping in the slow?

Do I really need a name that promises nothing but maggots in my memory?

There was a lackluster shine to me since '93,

memorizing my address and learning not to cry,

looking for loose limbs and split ends,

looking for gremlin scratches on your door,

looking for Medusa's kiss on my forehead,

turning to paper,

to mirrors,

to flooded backyards,

turning from your hegemonies,

whilst feeling the singe in my veins

of blood that could never be changed.

I was a ballerina in a jewelry box,

constantly spinning to the same song--

It's 3 AM and I feel sorry,

but the music never stops.

Author's Note

unfinished

Reviews

[Eagle Cruagh]

Once more I am nonplussed by the nuances,
the symbolism the hidden meanings, but
I am entranced by the virtuosity, the obvious
talent of this writer.
Her gifted writing transcends culture, beauty
and spirit. She lives and breathes excellence.
----- Eagle Cruagh

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

How beautiful and enchant the ballerina is to the untrained eye....confined idle and alone in the darkness. Yet, she found a way to heal the world around her. I now wonder if she ever made anyone happy...or if she simply absorbed their pain.

It is said that a house is not a home, but I've never seen a home that seemed to simply be a house. This poem brought it to my attention that the desensitization to your emotions can allow the distancing of one's self without notice. There is a release of tension that is powerful beyond words, but the lack of closure is what gives it it's bite. It's beautiful art...beautiful heartbreaking art, but brought imagery that put me into a dream state.

With the depth of this work...I must revisit in a few days.....100% sure to find many other insights to introduce themselves.