Friday, November 30, 2012

Alive


She curled up
In the warm blanket
In front of the fireplace.

The temperature had dropped
And it had started
To snow, but
It still felt perfect.

It was the first time
In a long time that
She was completely alone.

No husband looking for something,
No kids sliding up and down
The emotional scales
From moody to hyper active.

The cabin was in the middle
Of nowhere, the cell phone
Reception was shoddy at best.

She was alone, and
Even though everyone said
She would be scared and lonely,
She felt peaceful and safe.

The wind howled,
the wood crackled in the fireplace
And the time had come.

Reluctantly at first,
She slipped out from the blanket,
Allowing it to pool
At her feet.

Then slowly she unbuckled
Her belt and undid
The fastening of her pants.

It soon sat on top
Of the blanket,
Her top, then underwear
Joined her pants.

She stood naked
Before the raging fire,
Allowing it to warm her bare skin.

As though she was in a trance,
She walked out of the cabin
Into the dying snowstorm,
Her step, steady and sure.

She walked until
She came to a clearing
Bathed in moonlight.

She stood in the center
Then fell to her knees,
She opened her mouth and
A song she never heard
Tumbled out.

Her voice was as clear
As tolling bells and it
Rose above the tree tops.

The song ended and
She sat back as though
It drained her.
She waited.

Minutes passed, then
An hour slipped by
Without her noticing.

Out of the corner of her eye,
She saw him,
He circled around her,
Suspicious at first.

He sniffed the air,
She smiled, it was him,
She knew it.

As he walked slowly
Towards her, her eyes
Changed from black to
A tawny shade of yellow.

The closer he got,
The more she changed,
Becoming more like him.

When he, at last, stood
Before her, she was
As he was, two beasts
In the moonlight.

He reared up, but
It was all in play
And soon they were
Racing through the woods.

By day, she rested,
By night, she played
And by the end of the week,
She had come alive.

On the last night,
She bade him not to come
Closer, to keep his distance.

She asked him to
Let her see him as
She was, in human form,
At least once.

He shook his head
And walked away,
Melting into the woods.

For the first time,
She felt cold,
For the first time,
She felt alone.

As she walked back
To the cabin,
She did not dwell.

She did not dwell on
The pain, the feelings of
Abandonment and rejection.
She packed them deep within.

As she neared the cabin,
She saw a man standing
By the porch.

He was as she was,
Human and naked,
He was as she was
And she knew it was him.

That night,
They made love
For the first and last time.

The morning found her
On the road home,
But was it really home?
Will it ever really be home?

She never returned to the cabin,
She lived and died
In the bosom of her family,
But never again did
She ever come alive.


I've noticed that I've been writing longer poems of late, so I've decided to post these on Fridays seeing that the Martine series has come to an end. Also the Martine series will be available to read on the blog up until the end of the year, after that it will only be available as an eBook. Thank you for reading and following my blog and there will be more interesting posts  in the future.

6 comments:

Mary said...

I really enjoyed reading this poem. It held my interest throughout. I kind of knew what the outcome would be, but it was sad nonetheless!

Nia Ceridwyn said...

Quite an interesting tale, and very evocative. I could feel the chill, and the heat, and the longing.

Libby Meador said...

Sometimes I get lost in a long poem, but this shape-shifting tale of yours saw me through to the finish.

Kim Nelson said...

This reads like a Harlequin Romance, a genre that captured millions of readers over the years.

TALON said...

Oh, this was an adventure and I felt like I was the one racing through the woods. Sad she never felt that alive again, but a rich experience one could treasure always.

TALON said...

Oh, this was an adventure and I felt like I was the one racing through the woods. Sad she never felt that alive again, but a rich experience one could treasure always.

 
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