Waxen Heart

Her eyes are blue pools
of unfocused ice.
They have seen too much darkness
and felt too much pain.

Wavy hair the color of wheat
hangs in an unkempt field; she is a mess
of contradictions and a muddle
of mistakes.

Small hands, twist errant
straw-like strands in perpetual motion.
Her light-starved mind silently screams
in primal hues.

All color has been bled
from a life that is taking much too long.
There is no melody around her,
only static fills the air.

Alone she waits for the storms
to pass and the sun to break.
She dreams of warmth to melt
the wax that encases her heart.

How she longs to lick the tallow from her
fingers and feel the beat of something more.
So she waits to find the rhythm of the dance
she once knew before the rain.

Reviews

[R. L. Ives]

This takes me back to a very dark time in my life

she is a mess
of contradictions and a muddle
of mistakes.

Alone she waits for the storms
to pass and the sun to break.
She dreams of warmth to melt
the wax that encases her heart.

But it also lets me see just how far I have come...I have found the rhythm of the dance.

Thank you for sharing this very thought provoking piece.

[icelandicblue]

It's always darkest...but just because you can't see it a better future is out there. Thank you for sharing your connection to the poem. I am happy you have found the dawn.

[Sam Gregory]

Quite powerful indeed, that last stanza especially can be interpreted a number of ways

[icelandicblue]

Thank you so much Sam.

[Sam Gregory]

No problem :)

[Jack...]

This was mesmerizing, I actually got lost in this poem while reading it. the visions that filled my head were enchanting. This was sad in a way but extremely lifting for me. I found myself rooting for her as I rushed to meet her. very nice.

[icelandicblue]

I was uncertain about this poem but your review is so beautiful I am at a loss for words...thank you.

[Jack...]

It was beautiful.

[Jack...]

I had to come back her and read this again. It has me in its grasp and won't seem to let go. I thought about this poem most of night.

[icelandicblue]

Jack- I am happy that the poem speaks to you. I don't think anyone has ever said that about one of my poems, thank you for that.