Tag: writing

I force myself through the grandly carved, imposing doors,
permitting myself internally, proudly, I am inside.
Had I been willingly welcomed in, I'd have not
insisted on this erroneous entrance.

In awe, I look around and above,
the high ceilings are dotted with colourful scene upon scene
of love, adoration, and protective eyes,
creating a sense of warm welcome and
bright enumerated pride.
  
Faces belonging to chubby infants and an elegant, finely boned woman feature,
her knowing expressions painted, captured for all of time.
With posh, high cheekbones and cheerfully blushed cherubim
who she’ll sing to, dote on, and playfully pinch,
they observe me as I explore your inner chasm,
your being,
your eyes, they barely blink.
 
It is amazing, this open space surrounding me, 
within you, there is no clutter like within myself,
no gathered items taken and stored
from an age prior that their usefulness is now deemed defunct.
 
There are no earthly possessions to release,
all that speaks is masterful artwork depicting
how you protected me from afar,
with your blessings and a heart filled with prayer,
gratefully I thank you, kissing my fingers,
and press them against the wall.
 
There is no pigment here, only earth, barren to view,
but it is cold and it is calming,
I am hushed, lulled into silence by
the complexity and simplicity of you.
 
With grace and devotion, I begin to quietly retreat
from my initial impudent entry into your world,
into the messiness of my interior,
I glance around, and wistfully exhale,
this, I do not wish to forget.
 
And with a final gaze above,
I beg myself to retain the images,
with a sense of pious godliness, I cower respectfully,
say a few quiet words,
and leave.   
 
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.

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Are you privy to the facts which surround? Those which carefully guard the keyhole,
preventing curious spiders with their sticky traps of webbing to dance over the edges,
these facts smile at you, begging you forth, beckoning
with a laced fingertip, a hardened nail with something underneath, between the skin.
 
Who says you are permitted into the locket without a key?
Allow us to joust until the victor takes all the spoils,
every secret, every hope, every downfall, every dream,
unwound as though on a raised pianola roll,
a tune gaily played; a song that makes you feel free.
 
Don’t forget that song is predetermined,
no room for human error,
each note is there without phrasing, without emotion, without thought,
dictated by an invisible maker to our eyes,
at the repetition, I insert the key into the hole.
 
With amazement you look around, 
inside there is not much room,
some spaces only fit for a mouse, others for a boa constrictor, but I wouldn’t
own something so loud and obnoxious.
Carefully you sift through the remnants of the past,
like sand, the grains get lost between your toes and soles,
but you do not mind,
you are engrossed with the locket that houses many intricacies,
and sneakily I close the door, and lock you inside my heart,
you are all mine; all secrets safe with me.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
All images signed “LMH”
are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock
and all rights reserved.

Image by GLady from Pixabay

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