Back
At the Edge
She stands at the valley of infinity
Her heart is choking, stranded over the ledge
The vultures make their never-ending circles;
Drawing teardrops in the sky.
The Wind breaks through the trees
The branches crackle and the leaves burst to flames of protest
They try to hold her back
but there is no holding her back.
Her sculpted features are motionless; determined
Her insides are boiling--no one said she had to be a reptile
She never promised to turn to a chamelion--a snake
All but her eyes would suggest such formations--no longer.
Her hair blows 'round her head towards destiney
Towards temples, towards home.
The vultures continue their art in the air
Her eyes follow their motion--they burn with their intent.
Things so salty, so dense, are bound to fall.
So transparent--had Helios but tried
Perhaps her elements could have been dissolved
or, like her, suspended.
The vultures continue their circles,
and the pressure increases with depth.
The mixed diurnal tides crash at her weaknesses
And each time she recooperates with something.
But as she stands at the ledge,
her and her heart see only the birds
as her hair and the tree branches
pull out towards the reality she left behind.
~Kara Mae Adamo~
Her heart is choking, stranded over the ledge
The vultures make their never-ending circles;
Drawing teardrops in the sky.
The Wind breaks through the trees
The branches crackle and the leaves burst to flames of protest
They try to hold her back
but there is no holding her back.
Her sculpted features are motionless; determined
Her insides are boiling--no one said she had to be a reptile
She never promised to turn to a chamelion--a snake
All but her eyes would suggest such formations--no longer.
Her hair blows 'round her head towards destiney
Towards temples, towards home.
The vultures continue their art in the air
Her eyes follow their motion--they burn with their intent.
Things so salty, so dense, are bound to fall.
So transparent--had Helios but tried
Perhaps her elements could have been dissolved
or, like her, suspended.
The vultures continue their circles,
and the pressure increases with depth.
The mixed diurnal tides crash at her weaknesses
And each time she recooperates with something.
But as she stands at the ledge,
her and her heart see only the birds
as her hair and the tree branches
pull out towards the reality she left behind.
~Kara Mae Adamo~