Turning to the west
I seek what lies beneath the waves
A life that was never mine and yet,
When I shut my eyes the image stays
With me every morn I rise
To greet this world's smug dawn,
When I dress myself in daily lies
For I can't bear to see the curtains drawn,
Revealing me, sickly, I'm a broken word
Upon a torn page
Invisible fracture in the wing of a bird
The damage: impossible to gauge,
And looking West, I know the ocean never hears
How I long to escape when I fill her with my own salt tears.
Author notes
West is traditionally associated in Mythology with Tír na Nóg or the Otherworld.
Comments
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mmm beautiful
your an amazing writer i love your work
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Know nothing of this Otherworld or the West as mentioned in your poem, but can read and enjoy it anyway. Liked the flow, rhythm and rhyme in these lines.
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Sickly...a world that others do not know unless they are there themself. I am..and this is a beautiful poem that I can relate to. Lovely..thanks for sharing
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