I did not look back,
even as the shots first
whistled passed my ears like a song.
Like a forgotten god, like a father's raised hand,
all begging to be taken seriously.
I did not look back
even as the foreboding ground
tore at the seams of simple conversation,
when the wolves carved their laughter
into the space between my eyelids
and my mother's sincerity
I cried for the daughter
that didn't exist,
she cried for the one that did.
Still, I did not go back.
No.
I did not look back,
even when the too-soon setting sun
stole the light from your eyes,
when the tunnel collapsed so softly
the world did not notice your absence.
Even when you could no longer breathe
in anything but memory.
I look back now, having escaped the hounds at my heels, having lived through the frost only forests and poverty can forge—and I wonder how far this silence has stretched.
I wonder if I had only looked back all those years ago if this blood would still stain every everyday victory. If I would have ran for my life if I knew my life would be the only proof of the love.
If those words will ever leave my mind.
I survived, but at what cost?
I survived, but at what cost?
eve's note: This isn't my best work, and I know that, but in some ways it's the one I'm most proud of. Mostly, I'm proud of myself for sharing it. This was inspired by that awful need to run that has consumed my entire being for decades, that need to escape—and then realizing all that you left behind.
YOU ARE READING
HEAVENLY CORRUPTION
PoésieThe ramblings of a woman who spent too much time in confession and too little time trying to figure out what exactly she was apologizing for.
