Bridge Of Dreams
Bridge Of Dreams
History is a bridge,
those cold stone arches
span the missing pages of her diaries.
She ripped the sheets right out,
tried to forget all about
those dark ignoble memories.
The story begins with such heinous sins,
the devil incarnate became discontented.
The innocence ceases,
a childhood in pieces,
she knows that she never consented.
Her nightmares, the terror,
those scars last forever,
evidence of trauma’s potential.
Contemptible crimes never brought to mind,
they’re marked private and confidential.
Those crumpled sheets
contained missing heartbeats
of things a woman shouldn’t know
Throwing corporeal trash
like scattering cemetery ashes,
she feels herself letting it go.
Her handwritten pages
have all but faded,
watching silently as they float downstream.
The path to redemption
starts with transitional footsteps,
across the bridge of dreams.
Copyright Taun A. Richards 2016
So insightful!