Each morning greets me differently;
she kisses my cheek for love, or
spits down my throat for some other reason.
I used to hate her obnoxious light.
When I was a child I threw sticks
at her and swore I would do myself
in before she could. I made rope from vines
that her sun rays grew. I gathered
poison that lived on her sickly Earth
and piled them next to my bare toes
as they dug deep through the planets
coarse skin.
I think I sat in this spot, with my back toward
her for years on top of years.
She burned and blistered through my anger,
but I couldn’t see.
Until, one morning, my daughter greeted me,
sat softly next to my feet and reached deep into
the pile of poison
that I’d been saving for me.
maggiemaeijustsaythis 
You never quit grabbing me into your head
The unexpected turn at the end is fab.
You at one powerful poet, Ms Maggie Mae. Thank you.
I love it, it resonates for me.
More!! Loved it, Maggie 🙂
” I am a poet of dark imagery.”
So beautifully and hauntingly true.
This piece started out in the shadows, ended up with a blinding flash of light and then total, pitch black.
Knock-your-socks-off powerful.
Wow. This is very powerful. Thank you for sharing – I’ll be on the lookout for more.
And thank you for taking the time to visit my blog – best to you.
Same to you! I appreciate the kind words.