storm in a tin cup

now and a full moon
that old wound breaks open
blood spilling red and sumptuous
like silk down into my lap
pooling there like a lake
a mirror reflecting the past
in distorted images
showing a time that never was

but like a Russian doll
the little girl is still hiding
deep inside and far from view
dreaming of the Prince
the happy ending and all
waiting for the sun
to show its face and
turn her world to ash

again
so it shall be as before
each time the wheel turns tighter
the circle a little closer
to cutting a rut
inescapable as a trap
set for the mouse
and guarded by the cat

lost in the woods
of long and long ago
trees lined up like tin soldiers
the wolf’s glowing eyes
my guiding light
the hooting of the owl
shivering down my spine
lost in the depth, lost – but

nothing happens for the first time
and nothing ends with the last time

we are strung up
hands and feet
but mostly heart
trembling with the whisper
of the storm in the trees
bowed by each strike of lightning
pinned by each thunder clap
done for with the first drop of rain.

© Sybille Sterk
Do not copy or publish this in any way, shape or form without my written permission.

storm in a tin cup

Sybille Sterk

Cambridge, United Kingdom

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Artist's Description

© Sybille Sterk

Came to me the other day

Artwork Comments

  • Donna19
  • Donna19
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