Blue Branches

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Blue Branches
By Laura

Blue branches are an extension of the arms that bound me.
Blue is my malady of today.
I am caught up in the moment of bewilderment and feeling blue.
I do not know how to convey the color of my consciousness.
The severing of my union got me to this point of dejection.
Out of my captivity rose melancholy.
The lawlessness of being put under a microscope.
The long interrogation left me rather despondent.
The downcast process hung like a dark billowing cloud.
The curtain fell and my seclusion circumvented my heart.
The hour-glass remains full and the grains of sand ravage my reign as the regal one.
The blueness has engrossed me and gyrated to black bitter olives in my mouth.
All traces of exuberance have closed doors and left open lacerations.
Am I to remain downhearted until doomsday?
Blue is Beirut where I devised my escape from those who were following me.
My shoulder is like a revolving door.
Must I keep forming ringlets to fall into?
What is the American Embassy for if the would not let me initiate my own emission?
Back to the police barracks I would be casted to… day in and day out.
My screams for help were not acknowledged.
Like voices echoing in a dark blue cave with no end in sight.
The disconsolate feeling was like a net not catching the person who was prostrate.
Why must I be so blue and melancholy?
Locked away inside my villa jailhouse.
My friends would call me from the outside world.
They put their own lives at risk trying to help.
I had little time to rehearse my lines.
The only thing bluer was the smell of the Mediterranean Sea.
I would look out at it and hear the plea of my parents.
When are you coming home?
Mama’s sad cry would be heard from far away.
Still the branches of my existence cling to me like vines pulling me back.
Sorry the voice would echo back to me.
I cannot help you…you are not welcome!
In my own destitution I could not find a resolution.
My mood became morose like a sour apple.
It was like being cut apart bit by bit,
Until only the core was left…a hollow me!
It was exasperating to always to always be blue.
My children would try to give me comfort.
Small arms encircling me.
Temporarily there would be peace and tranquility.
The silence would be broken by the captain calling.
Warning me of another interrogation…he would call it another tit for tat.
The blue curtain would fall around me again.
The doleful days would drag on and on.
I would get on my bicycle and ride against the wind that resisted me.
Writing poetry was my salvation.
Keeping my soul alive and giving me the strength to carry on!
The blue words spilled out of me like water from a jar.
The blue branches will always be there to protect me.