Confined by Disbelief.

by Poet on the Piano   Jan 17, 2014


She's never been a beggar, until mental health broke through
her mortar walls, inadvertently producing a predator.
Often, she was not aware of the hunt-
staying inside, seducing time, pleading for life to
be a sanction that is rarely given.
Each sleep haunted her with refusals, waivers
being written in native blood;
she ignored the real carvings on skin and pretended
they were simply gimmicks from a tired mind.

Her vigor always rattled windows, parents smiling
warmly at such determination yet considering it a phase,
a way to release angst.
No, this was her prayer, her way to serve a country
too frightened to stand on unshaken legs and opting
for shoulders to balance on instead.

She didn't just want the danger, no, she wanted the pride
that there would be meaning in a concise life.
That there would be action and consequence and difference.

But she was permanently disqualified...

At bedtime, she still touches these thirty scars,
believing in them and not the truth of her unstable behavior.
She chants like a woman of faith who can no longer
summon empowering words,

"my history was not supposed to define me this much.
I am nothing but limited."

-
Written 1/16/14 @ 11:20 PM

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Latest Comments

  • 10 years ago

    by Chelsey

    I had to read this twice, because I fell too much in love with wording the first time that I didn't get to thoroughly enjoy this poem.

    The second time around it hit hard, and Maryanne, you often make up poems but if this is in any way something you have gone through or are going through, talk to me dang it!! Vent.

    Anyways poetry wise,

    No, this was her prayer, her way to serve a country
    too frightened to stand on unshaken legs and opting
    for shoulders to balance on instead.

    ^^^ what a great description and play on words of someone who has " a good head on their shoulders".

    The depth so of highs poem is amazing to me because you can feel the deep pain and longing this person has, but it's not clearly shown. It's hidden, it makes your reader try and "read" what you are getting across, and my is it sad.

    This is what of those poems where the topic, not even the poem itself, but the topic leaves me with nothing to say. It's I like I want to help the character and not focus on your poem. Haha.

  • 10 years ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    A great write and well defined. Deeply sad yet so honest. I like the part "Until mental health broke through".

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