Day 4 of NaPoWriMo. This is a spontaneous, on going, poem about Jane, and her Fools journey.
She knew her name,
common among the abandoned
and runaway lost.
She forgot that it mattered
If it ever mattered till now
And if it had, would the memory
be candied sweetness or
layered in spikes and blades
with more of the ceaseless lonely
in this sea of other nameless
from the Lost?
The Bench ripple down her spine
A forgotten comfort, a familiar
longing, her skin flexed in
recognition, a silent welcome
followed by a far away voice
A long ago came tumbling in
with the coral sky swallowing the Sun
to the other side for that awakening.
Eyes open wide to the coming of night
Held to a singular beaming planet,
a radiant spike of light drives down
strikes her between the eyes.
Her breath taken from her
filling up on the blind of luminance
Jane can you hear me?”
copyright: jeanne Adwani
Photo: Jeanne Adwani.