glint with spreading purposes
course, wind and bite at shins.
I’m alone, bereft
floating tideless with no heft
I’m weightless, anchor-free
surf swells, and cleanses me.
I’ve escaped the dark prism
refusing to recite catechism
Love kept me prisoner
He ruled as a blinded commissioner.
I dwindled its cuffs bare
erasing each memory-filled lair
channelling stone rivulets to sea
so that I could rediscover me.
I’m buoyant now, ocean-wide –
I recoil at multi-faceted pride
bedecking intoxicating veneers
hiding a heart with pungent sneers.
A wasted passion, blighted form
I curse myself for watching the storm,
but now I’m cradled in my bed
no black prisms rotate my head.
Emma Wells is a mother and English teacher that writes poetry and short stories. She has published work in online journals and magazines.