The Pen & The Pearl by Apryl Skies

She dreams, she dreams 

Silk slippers await her feet 

for her to slink away into 

twilight upon cold floors, 

descending downward into 

friendly black hours 

when it is quiet, it is quiet here 

in these dark-muse corners

where the moon is her only witness

until dawn paws cat-like cracking 

the fragile morning wide open

silence, sage in its slumber.

 

Ink drips from dry fingers 

She is the howl of the voiceless

devouring silence onto parchment

into the psyche, into history chains 

of the enslaved loosen their grip

to her words--

she listens and absorbs 

the crying wind and walls

walls of oppression and injustice

burst like the sun, 

 

Her wisdom;

a shelter from the storm 

outside her, sensibility and belief

beyond a hope she harbors 

no demise 

Somehow in this moment, 

she is a touch away

a touch away from god

a touch away from truth

closer to the sublime mystery  

within her

a paradox which curses 

all she has been taught

no matter

 

Somehow in this moment 

there is no time 

only movement of hand 

the curved landscape of sound 

scratching upon flattened 

white textures, 

heavy, stacked like stones

 

Sea birds soar from shore 

and for a moment the ocean roars 

in acknowledgment of her finality

in this moment, 

in this cold, dark corner

hovering above these floor-panels

in her silk slipper silence

the Pearl glimmers immortality.

 

She lives, she lives…

Apryl Skies © 2011