Monday, 4 February 2013

The Harbinger

She could not concisely have expressed how it happened
How the vibrant colours of the days 
She found herself living within the walls of 
Had  become strangely gaunt and watered down

But they had

And this man, a man she barely knew 
Could not possibly know how the words he had just spoken from the pulpit
"Here we are, half way through the dark days of Winter."
Would reach inside her and stir up the winds of urgency

But they had

Amid strangers, she pulled a thorn from her self-inflicted  crown
And silently began mending a life she barely recognized
With vision both struggling and skewed, she fumbled with thorny needle and thread 
Upon that which for too long, had been coming apart at the seams