lightning shadowgraphy

 A persons eyes say more than any words.
Hers, a deep charred away brown,
whispered of haunted corridors lost
in endless struggle.
Her pupils were barren yet still shined
in mockery of absent life.
Gazing expressionless beyond an open clearing.

One off the far east trail in the backwoods.
Where hallowed logs and a burnt trailer
decorated miasma memories.
Watching as the very skies seemed to weep;
violently cascading tears of yesterdays blood
and bellowing expletives inside the rage
of lightning shadowgraphy.

Projecting the demons that often
frolicked amidst that very thicket;
faceless sirens that cooed in requiem.
A deep acid rolled past her cheeks,
mimicking the blackest wrath of the rain
as she smiled an empty understanding
that never quite reached the creases of her eye lids.

The beauty of nature was an art form,
the sky a gifted puppeteer manipulating
the shadows of her minds quarantine.
Pausing briefly for a shriek of deafening thunder and
crackling a morris code before the lightning resumed.
A strangled voice over that only served
to echo the catacomb of her stare.