Ovi -
we cover every issue
newsletterNewsletter
subscribeSubscribe
contactContact
searchSearch
Status: Refugee - Is not a choice  
Ovi Bookshop - Free Ebook
Join Ovi in Facebook
Ovi Language
Murray Hunter: Essential Oils: Art, Agriculture, Science, Industry and Entrepreneurship
WordsPlease - Inspiring the young to learn
Tony Zuvela - Cartoons, Illustrations
Stop human trafficking
 
BBC News :   - 
iBite :   - 
GermanGreekEnglishSpanishFinnishFrenchItalianPortugueseSwedish
The Invasion The Invasion
by Abigail George
2022-06-09 07:41:18
Print - Comment - Send to a Friend - More from this Author
DeliciousRedditFacebookDigg! StumbleUpon

Into the window of despair that is written all over your
face. What do you know of terror? Walk towards me is
all I asked.  You could not love or rather could not love
me. This is what you would choose over me. The she.
The “she” that lives in an office building and for the men
in her life. I mut forgive myself for stepping into the
nonchalant river. Two vessels of light. You were a body of
water and I floated on my back looking at pictures of
classmates from high school that had no memory of me.
You would explode into view on those afternoons and
now I have the sun but that is all I have. The sun is a coin
and I am a turning point. Choose me. Choose not to
love me. Grant me wisdom. Give me insight into the
wedlock of relationships. So, I take this coin and place
it into the slot machine with hope. All I receive is grief.
I go back to writing my poetry. I go back to scrawling.
You’re not here. You’re not here. You’re not here and
then I am unhappy. For a brief time, you kept me going
like a ticking clock. You kept me alive. A woman’s
primary function is to think like a woman and find peace
in the world and partake of it and then to find a man
of her own and give that peace to him. Not just to be
taken up by the man but to understand that as far as
slot machines go there will always be hope. There is far
too much war and conflict in the world. In my veins,
rushing through air, in the marginalised throat of a
bird, at a cellular level. It is winter here now. I close
my eyes and feel a cataclysm. Your breath, your eyes
and I open my eyes and see a forest of trees gaining
on me. The branches reach out to me and the moment
is divine. I should drink to forget you. I should smoke
but I don’t. You’re not here. I imagine your ghost.
Terror in my blood an eclipse. I hold the sun and it
is like a volcano. You are now on top of a mountain, and I am
into the ice river where I can never be found again.

 ukr001_400_02

*****************************************
Abigail George has two books in the Ovi Bookshelves,
"All about my mother" & "Brother Wolf and Sister Wren"
Download them, NOW for FREE HERE!

 life_06_400


    
Print - Comment - Send to a Friend - More from this Author

Comments(0)
Get it off your chest
Name:
Comment:
 (comments policy)

© Copyright CHAMELEON PROJECT Tmi 2005-2008  -  Sitemap  -  Add to favourites  -  Link to Ovi
Privacy Policy  -  Contact  -  RSS Feeds  -  Search  -  Submissions  -  Subscribe  -  About Ovi