You sit shoulders back, dignified and uncovered
in shallow water. Salient tears in stalactite formations
form a picture of resistant, defiant, mascara stained
insolence, while tangible figures frolic around you like
around the first fire. A scent reminiscent of mordacious
distress, diseased resignation surrounding them.
Their dark shadow-like reach dissolving as they
close in, arms spinning, wandering, weaving , leaving
behind a vanishing landscape; a whitened empty expanse.
A sinister bend, a corruption through openness,
they seek to overwhelm, bury you in insignificance.
But this is your epitomic moment, your storybook
climactic event. Here, among the damned, wanting
to condemn you to silent acquiescence, you will
stand naked and powerful out of tepidness, dripping
impudence from your skin and open your mouth,screaming
discordant sounds, greens and blues, streaming and dismissive.
There is no fear in darkness, no fearless love, no loving darkness
to oppress you. You have learned, been cut and bruised by the crushing
loneliness that comes with understanding. They cannot hurt you.
They own faded substance, can only obscure and delay.
And you in your hard-water wisdom will wash them aside.