Walking on Eggshells

With breath trapped deep
in weary lungs
I brave the path of eggshells
scattered ‘neath my feet,
while thunder crashes ‘round my ears
in roaring waves
and as the darkness deepens
every sound reverberates
through silence.

But there’s no lightning in this sky
to light the way,
and the slightest snap 
of fragile shell resounds
to wake 
the beast that rages 
wildly hurling daggers 
at my heart. 

Daggers met with stone,
yet bathed with salt,
that mourn for my untimely death,
repeated 
every page of every book
that tumbles to the ground
around my soul.

But I no longer bleed.


july 2006
Janet Reid






Awarded by Poetic Constellations ~ Jan 6, 2008