She waits.
In the silence of her room
And the silence of her mind
She waits for that which comes.
Like nightfall.
Inevitable, irrevocable
Insidiously innate
It creeps over her.
A curse.
It slides through her mind
It steals over her flesh
Destroying all it finds.
The end.
With unrepenting doom
It sinuously slithers
Closer – ever closer.
I yearn.
To take away this baneful curse
To save her from its pain
And see her free from harm.
Helpless.
Powerless to change her world,
Powerless to stand in the way,
Of all that she fears.
We wait.
There is no defence,
There is no escape,
From time.
Jo Eberhardt is a writer of speculative fiction, mother to two adorable boys, and lover of words and stories. She lives in rural Queensland, Australia, and spends her non-writing time worrying that the neighbour's cows will one day succeed in sneaking into her yard and eating everything in her vegie garden.
Love this, has a definite Virginia Woolf feel.
Wow. Thanks, Bee.
I love this, Jo!
Thank you, Nicole. 🙂
Evocative. ❤
Thanks!
…
That’s a good thing, right? 😉
Excellent poem. It evokes that visceral reaction we feel when considering the unstoppable passage of time.
Thanks, Miranda. I love hearing that a reader got a similar feeling reading my poem as I got when writing it.
Love the image of in the silence of her mind – how powerful fear is, and there really is no way to free a person from their fears.
Thank you, Heather. So true.
Awesome! I really like this!!!)
Thank you.
Reblogged this on gntonnik and commented:
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