The House

I awake, sharp, inside this war-torn room,

Though I can’t recall how I arrived here.

Barely having strength in these thin legs,

I begin to inspect the empty surrounding.

 

The pin-drop creaks pierce my ears;

A Spirit of Fear begins to overwhelm me.

I fling open the door, praying for comfort.

But, only a barren hallway greets my eyes.

 

My cautious steps soon turn to sprints.

I’m crashing through, seeking an escape.

A thick cloud guard grips my neck back.

Exhaustion. This body gives out on me.

 

My limbs ache and my heart-thread snaps.

Every step is like a thorn into my dirty foot.

I scream for healing–am baptized hollow.

My bones chill under ice flesh; all alone.

 

Trying desperately to push myself up,

I gasp for freedom with every breath.

It’s like the air has turned to water,

And breathing is bewitched impossible.

 

There seems to be no end to this battle,

That’s left me a broken and weary mind.

I need a remedy. Please, just a rescuer.

My soul yearns. Please, just a rescuer.

 


Wrote this one awhile back in 2014 when I was struggling mentally. Interestingly enough, “A Vagrant’s Winter,” “A Settler’s Spring,” and this poem were the first three poems I had written; all of which were also untitled at the time since I knew nothing of poetry. I guess it sparked my desire for writing before I was even fully aware of it myself. There are still battles, but you can win them little-by-little everyday. Don’t give up. Don’t give in.


⌊ © Serena Delgado (June, 2018) ⌉

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