And then she was a chasm, A cavity of weakness; Void of throat shredding screams, Drowning in mind mincing whispers. She is now hollow of all But a single reverberating beat Clawing at the Heaven she yearns for.
But she is now a chasm, A cavity of sorrow; She found the space behind her ears Home to hundred-legged creatures; Her mouth's roof now scarred From the family of nesting bats; The glow worms that once illuminated her dark eyes Sleep.
That is all she will ever be: A Chasm. Her bones broke when she joined the mountain side. Muscles turned to moss, skin to crumbling stone. Her lashes are now the stalagmites and stalactites And although she did not open her eyes to this, She is no neophyte to the mountain's arms. She simply allows herself to forget for a time.
1/13/16 C. E. Smith
Sometimes I just lay in bed and a phrase comes to me and I have to write about it: "And then she was a chasm." What does that mean to you?