Snapshots

I stand with the spray at my back
letting the water run over me,
the heat stinging my flesh
to remind me I am alive,
and wait, hoping it will wash it all
down the drain.

And the shadow
slides ‘round the moon

The wind revs outside my window
like a Formula 1 racecar
readying to take off,
it seeps through the walls
intended to keep me warm
and I feel the cold
like the bitter bite
of an unfriendly ghost

And still the shadow
slides ‘round the moon

A baby cries in the distance,
its mother is calling,
there is ringing in my ears
as the snow keeps falling

And the shadow
slides further ‘round the moon

The chain around my neck
hangs limp and broken;
the symbol of my existence
loose but not lost,
pick it up, dust it off
and take another step —
my feet are heavy
but I can’t be taken down
that easily

And once again, the shadow
slides ‘round the moon




february 2011
Janet Reid