Poem: Demonise – 25/07/20

Don’t demonise me,
I’ve lived and breathed my stone age,
don’t victimise me,
I have lasted longer than expected.
 
Don’t terrorise me, my existence is not a myth,
I was spoken of in tones so hissed,
cackling, laughing, I need not confess anything to ancient, solemn priest.
 
Annihilate me,
in sweet moments in which you became aware
that I am whole, I embody something so right,
engage me, elicit sparks and embers,
but don’t demonise me, 
I am broken no more.
 
I have been stitched back into place,
the pieces of me, broken limbs,
cast aside, splayed, careless display, so easy,
 
a worthless entity frowned upon,
eyes lowered, shame, I have none,
I shall prohibit the unlikely future fall,
no, I shall rise
as though upon wings of a phoenix, mythological and perfect,
I’ll treasure certain moments, 
I shall set them in stone.
 
Christ knows of my ages,
my bronze, iron, gold,
each milestone, each era,
paint that perfect picture of a demon woman 
with no true, loyal soldiers,
 
I do not come from darkened land nor shore, 
I trail loose sand grains from a paradise of folklore,
my dress, my train drags,
I catch some more.
 
And view upon me now from yonder, 
I have arisen, from the depths of sorrow,
capture yet my presence, dare ye bother?
 
I am free, and this open heart proclaims,
what’s in a name?
Recall me freshly,
memories positive, negative ions cancelled,
no predicaments to envisage,
none, naught the same,
nothing to it,
no one to blame.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

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