The Witch

Staring at the walls,
I am trapped.
My hands hold the bars,
White knuckles wrapped.
I am an animal in a cage.
An avalanche waiting
To rage down the mountain.
A volcano ready to erupt like a fountain.
Kicking and screaming as I lose the battle.
To rattle my cage,
Is to rattle my rage.
And I’m climbing the walls,
Shutting out the calls.
There’s a witch in my body,
She can’t take the prodding.
She doesn’t mean harm.
Usually so calm.
But the darkness brings the worst
And makes her heart burst.
She’s too tired to see clearly.
To tired to think freely.
So once in a blue moon.
Comes the witch on her broom.
Once in a blue moon.
Comes the witch on her broom.
Once in a blue moon.
Comes the witch on her broom.
Once in a blue moon.
Comes the witch on her broom.

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Gone, But Not Gone

Are you with the bird floating on the breeze?
Are you the whisper amongst the trees?
Are you the wind rippling through the grass?
Are you the sun shining down at last?

Are you the wild flowers in the woods?
So many what if’s and should’s.
What if you had run the other way?
I should have told you to stay.

Is that you on the windowsill?
Singing from the robin’s bill?
Did I hear you call my name,
With the ivy tapping the window pane?

Oh, my sweet daughter,
I will bring you home.
Away from the crows,
To the warm, golden glow.

I will set you free over the dancing sea,
And I shall try so hard to breath.
And feel your skin in the sand between my toes.
Hear your voice in the ocean blows.

You are gone, but not gone.
Yes, your heart has moved on,
Though not in footsteps walking,
But all around, my darling.

3am

3am.
My stomach is in knots.
And my eyes won’t close.
Restless bones and whirring brain.
My daughter is calling me again.

3am.
Screams in the woods.
The fox cubs are crying, too.
The buzzard is hunting.
And the owls are calling to the moon.

3am.
It’s my husband’s shift.
His turn to go in,
While my heart is racing.
And my mind is writing.

3am.
A time for reflection.
And stupid assumptions.
Can I see myself in the stars,
If I search really hard?

3am.
There are no answers,
To my endless doubt.
My husband turns over,
And reaches his arm out.

3am.
My daughter sleeps.
There is no need to weep.
Though weep, I do.
And turn to the moon.

3am.
Moon, please shake your fist,
And answer me this;
Can you take my doubt,
And toss it out?

3am.
I wrap myself in summer,
In the cool night air.
With the trees surrounding,
And stroking my hair.