011/365: Back on the motorway.

Inside the palace of winter
I wished for your hands to touch my face,
Inside the wall of stone
I begged for the feel of the open space

Where we could run from kings
from governments and lords,
With savage bodies free
not wounded by their swords

To live in the passions of wild love
and sleep in the infinite birth,
Of warm and vibrant seeds
sifting within the earth

Where the night is welcomed by fires within,
and the rain brings a tender gust,
To leave behind the merciless gates
That flood with blood and dust

All this I dreamed within my dream
but woke inside a cage,
Where golden sun and silver chains
had choked my heart with rage

And saw your eyes all cruel and sad
and sexist in their way,
And cursed the world that made you mad
And damned the dawning day.

~Heather Lenz

Poet, writer, artist, publisher, editor