suddenly we're lost - a poem

[RedStarling]

hey y'all! i started writing this a while back for the summer art slam writing competition, hence the name of the poem; i figured i would finish it and post it somewhere despite missing the deadline by half a year haha.

suddenly we’re lost

I.

ivory columns anchored
on cumulus thoughts
cast slanting shadows across
the acres of her mind

as she she runs through plumes
of wisteria above, lavender below—
the fragrant clouds of vibrancy
fill her senses with their cloying whimsy.

she finds herself pause
amidst the stubbly verdant grass;
their blades prod her soles with tenacity
and remind her to look out ahead.

hovering on the horizon sits
a lone figure wavering in mist,
an oasis of visible mirth
peeking from a concealed grin.

their paths cross clumsily, a mere
faux pas as she loses her sandals in
the dense knotty brush that wraps
around her ankles with maternal care.

II.

she couldn’t notice the first few times–
the way the trips began to wear on her–
she mistook his blinding Daedalus laugh
for warming beams of freeing sun.

giggles burst forth without restraint,
light and airspun cotton sweet nothings
while angels pluck at harp strings
in the key of sanctimonious delusion.

led down winding forest trails
with a willow-whisper feather talk,
she is fed with the decadent ambrosia
of white lies and burning eyes.

dandelions drift through a stagnant sky
as she forgets to watch time fly–
the hours grow dove wings and spread
across a purgatory field of rye.

it is only in the moments of pause
when she collects her belongings and stands
that she feels the blackberry thorns scrape her skin,
their sour-sweet aroma drawing her further in.

branches carve tunnels of obscurity
through periwinkle wisps, stark
in their dark form. twisted trunks
shift behind her, unseen and unheard.

III.

warped cypress knees protrude
from still murky ponds, hunkering down
onto themselves– a cage of roots.
her north star disappears with haste,

dropping from the deep dusk.
twigs brush against her arms, subtle
with their forgotten warning and ignored
in favor of chasing Olympus dreams.

she loses sight of the place they met
over a year ago, memories mixing with maybe’s
as she craves daylight’s warmth in the fog
of the era following midnight’s reign.

a lone bullfrog croaks once by the lake
and she loses the hours passing by;
she lacks sleep and paces with a
dragonfly heartbeat, fluttering.

the sound of a familiar golden timbre
gives her fragile heart crystalline hope,
lifted by its lilt. she finds her balance,
lifts a palm towards the nectarine voice–

and shatters when she sees her guiding light
suddenly joined by another, twin flames
whom alone shine so brightly that together
they burn her retinas with their harmony.

she races through tangled curtains of vines,
his duplicitous reflection off moonlit water
searing into white-hot tears down her face
and raining onto thankful ferns below.

IV.

her back scraped against rough bark
as she slumped down, head bowed low–
the weight of dizzying denial claims her
with the overgrowth of invasive kudzu.

she screams and tears the climbing foliage
from her marblesque skin, refusing the
statuette tendencies of a mad woman.
innocent lilies wilt in her fractured fury.

frantic musings scrawled on parchment
joined by smeared charcoal fingerprints
repeat what if as they skip across the page
and point her questions back to the shore.

she steps into its chilly depths in a feverish daze,
numb heels digging into the thick silt below.
a pillar of salt, she dissolves with watery defeat
and currents carry her silenced remains downstream.

sunbeams tap her awake in tingling pinpoints.
she coughs up spring water for deep gulps of air,
tinged with an earthy smoke that dissipates
as the clarity of what has become wafts over her.

the trails of well-worn familiarity are engraved
into the landscape, the erosion of a false god
leaving similar marks in her giving flesh
and making her unrecognizably weathered.

V.

the dim light of early dawn brings clarity
underscored by bittersweet longing
and the scent of mothballs carried by
a deceivingly crisp autumn breeze.

nostalgia paints with broad bumbling strokes,
translucent tendrils skating across the clear sky.
innocence is defaced with faded scars
that ache upon remembrance of crescent moons.

she finds beauty in the act of artistry,
pigments permanently perforating skin.
watercolor layers allow passing time
to envelop her with a gossamer promise.

tree rings hung from her visage,
growing in the years added to her heart.
she considers the gentle strength of the sequoia
and allows her weakened spine to straighten.

enforced by the memory of breakable bliss,
she parts the heavy curtain of reminiscence
and steps lightly onto weathered stone,
carried by her faith in the Fates.