situated in the past,
unwilling to move forward;
though she is striding so fast,
she seems to be inevitably norward.
bounds and leaps over heaps of ash,
she prances o'er the sound
"begone" she said, "the fateful clash"
then she was homeward bound.
with auburn hair and cheeks of red,
she steadies her aching soul.
remembering the time she fled,
just her likeness, not her whole.
casting a glance across to skye,
she takes the leap of faith.
her wind beneath her, a sudden lie
she disappears, without a trace.
-
k.h.
january 6th, 2020.
