Oh

Oh, dear Satan, your delicious
merchandise finds me
tender.

I am a raw sunflower gasping for
clean air, for rare light
to open my thin arms
and feed my beginning.

I could be a generous gift,
a miracle fragrance in the breeze
of a season,
but I was stomped deep
in the Earth, fed on by worms
before I knew how to dream.

When dreams slipped in to my feeble
stem, they were
manipulated, filling my roots with
poison.
Now, I sleep with deadly seeds
growing in my brain, too weak to survive
cold seasons,
surrendering to dark demons, until
spring brings back
the warm light of hope.

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11 thoughts on “Oh

  1. Dear heart Maggie Mae…highly accomplished poet… you were the first commenter to my blog. I didn’t know then I had been visited by such a strong, vibrant muse…stay safe. 🙂

  2. until spring brings back the warm light of hope … seasons change, spring always returns, and with it hope!! I enjoyed this poem knowing both the darkness and the light.

  3. Nice to read a poem I can genuinely relate to. “Oh, dear Satan, your delicious
    merchandise finds me tender.” Uh-huh!
    Nice stuff.

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