THE DISAPPEARANCE OF EMUNAH JUNE.

it happened on a Thursday.

she took one look

at the woman she'd become,

and withdrew the sword

she'd sheathed long ago

eyes fluttering in hope

that was burning

and melting

like gold in the hearth,

and she rested her stomach

against its blade.

saying,

"this is a life

that was never meant

for a soul like mine.

i saw beauty in forgiveness

and divinity in redemption,

but all i have been gifted

is a reality so foul

it bitters my mouth

and soils my blood." 

her hands pushed

that aching metal

so far deep into her muscle

that she could not part her lips

much in the way

of agonizing breath.

every dream she tucked

into jewelry boxes

and half open books

shattered with a noise

akin to gunshots.

and with that,

she died

just like she lived,

quiet, unsure, optimistic.

and when day was

trampled by

the veil of night,

she rose again

with a determination

she'd never known.

she withdrew blade tempest

and let her blood

mark the steps

she'd make along the way

saying

"this is who i am,

not what i was

but who i will be.

i will be loving,

i will be firm,

i will be dead to a world

who was dead to me."

and all this time,

no one is sure

if this was a good thing

or not.

Reviews

[Brandon Houser]

This is a wonderful piece. It will linger with anyone who ever wanted to make a big change. I agree with Michael below. This deserves multiple readings. In my library this will go.

[Michael Sun Bear]

Very interesting Emunah. It contains fear, sorrow, loss, depression, death, rebirth, reformation. Your stanza beginning with “every dream she tucked into jewelry boxes…..” really struck me as brilliant. So are the lines beginning “but all I have been gifted….” It is complex, benefits from multiple readings. Well done you!