. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The Barrens


In the barrens
Nothing grows
But silence.

Roots can't find
Their way
Through crusted earth,

Skin so thinned
It's thick with armour -
Spring buds locked beneath

The invisible, impassable,
Where no sun or rain
Can find them.

The arctic tundra,
Quiet, desolate,
beautifully barren.

My womb is barren
Also, where In the dark
things grow unreserved.

Fighting their way through
Thick, obstinate walls with
Corkscrew determination.

No seeds no fish no buds 
It mothers and feeds
And imagines beauty.

2 comments:

Anthony Duce said...

Enjoyed, the mood, the imagery..

Marjolaine Hébert said...

Thank you, Anthony.