Tectonic Plates

Untitled, 1950’s, Hans W. Silvester. Swiss, born in 1938

 

Tectonic plates move
Under my feet
Eerie sounds of the ground shifting
Shifting my soul and my
sense of self
Hope eludes me as the root cause of my uneven understanding of self
crumbles
Swimming in sea fog and black suns
A mile deep
into the Earths core
Magma is bubbling over
my heart
An electric jolt hits my mouth
as the black sun rises
No moral compass found
in this deep canyon just inertia
As feelings of hurt spread and drip down to my purpling heart
I can’t hide the sadness it fills my eyes
It drips down to my mouth where I taste salty tears disguised as stars of hope
As the earth shifts, I run to grab tree branches, but instead,
I float by in a sludge
my life in words and desolate scenarios.

Joann Cohen

Joann Cohen is a desert dweller from The Southwest. She enjoys
painting and photography. Writing has always been at the
forefront of her creativity since she was in her teens. Joann
enjoys finding inspiration for her poems and stories from the
world around her. Read more of her work at
https://jomillyblog.wordpress.com and at Free Verse Revolution

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