About to Blow

Alia Beeton

I flew backward on a bird through an embittered sky

Saw time upended, for the end had come and gone

Life quickened in the earth, which boldly tried

to push its shoots through the cracks toward a hidden sun

I saw the demons in their eyes, the serpents in their veins

They devoured her, she was devoured by greed

The world was full of poison riches liars fast obtained

as they mutated the magic, the grace of a simple seed

I’ve passed through seasons we don’t believe in anymore

I could tell you of the things that bankrupted the brain

This depth of desecration never did exist before

the age when we distorted, numbed, internalized the pain

Did you know that, when unmet, a mind will dessicate?

And when unused, a heart, as true as time, will atrophy

Without the pulse of love to fill our parts we’re desolate

We ache through every gaping hole for empathy

Expect the uninvited guest, pillager of the pristine

Don’t expect a miracle, the miracles have been cashed in

Like the ground post-carnival, don’t expect it to be clean

The siren song of sins, sung by winners who didn’t win

Everybody thinks she’s dormant, but I know what lies below

I’m the herald, the informant, telling you that all her torment,

Bubbling like bitter ferment,

is about to blow.

But there is something more, for this story never dies

While I’m floundering to make some sense of what’s to come

Life is quivering again, she says, it always tries

to push its shoots through the cracks toward a hidden sun

Alia Beeton is a singer-songwriter, actor and writer who blogs at LucidLipsLifeLetters.com. We welcome your contribution. To have your topical essay of 350 words considered for publication, write
[email protected].

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