It’s a fluttering dove,
No…mayhap a trembling rabbit,
Why does it sound so loud?
The shaking, the trembling
Now the throbbing, the thudding
In my ears, a stampede,
The gasp that awakens, confirming
It’s the beat of my heart,
Out of sync and out of rhythm,
The night rests, as my body
Oscillates between agitation
And surreal calm.

Indisputable, unstoppable
Once again …

Decades before, the onset of red
Celebrated the miracle of life,
The birthing of the womb
Bringing with it the angst
That comes with change,
Pain, confusion, agitation
Frustration… helplessness,
curling up into the
Primordial Fetal position
As I breathed, to still
the body and mind, till
I embraced the inevitable-
The cycle of life.

I curl up now once more,
As demons play and indulge
In a soirée – in a mind,
That I’m aghast to call my own.
They laugh as I struggle
With clenched lips and
Tightened fists, to restrain
The desire to scream and shout,
To hurl my acrid words
At the world, to lash out
Till they feel my pain
My sense of loss, till
My unsung sacrifice,
And the silence of my
Endurance, till the tears
Of this disturbed heart
Becomes a vivid collage,
The myriad hues –
A testament, to the
Burning and trembling
Of the mind and the body.
The struggle of the spirit
Of a woman,
As she embraces and releases,
Adapts and morphs, repeats
This endless cycle of life.
Through it all the mask remains
The smile countenance
Seems to question the universe-
Do you not see the upheaval,
The fragility and vulnerability,
Is it because I don my facade
With such practiced ease?

Now,in those rare moments of stillness
Sometimes my heart
Finds its place and the mind comprehends,
the agony in
The profound silence
Of butterflies and swans –


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