deepundergroundpoetry.com
My Golden Hand
The hand made of gold has never been a joke,
but, rather, a true tale to be told.
It is that which decides what happens for me,
and it is that that puts me into a garden filled with beauty.
I breathe in and I breathe out.
I listen to the sounds of the birds
who surround me so peacefully.
Nearby, a twig breaks, and I spin
ungracefully to view a young man.
He seems tranquil, just like the birds
who flitter by in rhythmic beats.
He strides closer: beauty personified.
It takes my breath away, so I try
in vain to gain it back. Once he is close,
a, "Hello, how are you?" comes out.
The voice entrances me, and I stutter my reply.
I love him, is all I can think.
We spend a few months together,
simply talking and listening.
Words turn into innocent kisses
and whispered promises of youth.
When the day comes for me to shove off
and marry another, I am upset;
he is, too, but begins to act strangely.
His movements are more tight, and
his laughter is shorter.
I promise him that I will escape, that I will return.
But he won't believe me, and he promises
he will do something. I go home happy,
but I forget his promise was spoken
with words unkind... and directed at me.
The night I will leave, he comes
to take me. I follow willingly.
I speak quietly of our future;
he walks in a way that should scare me,
or at least make me wary...
When he has dropped behind me a bit,
I feel a great pressure on my back.
I realize what is happening,
...I am pushed onto the ground in the dark.
It only takes a few pushes and jerks,
then I am bleeding, crying, and screaming.
When he is gone, I am too weak,
deflowered, bruised, tainted... and dying.
I look up at nothing and wonder
if the golden hand of fate will save me,
or if it will be rid of me.
A light shines on me, and a face
appears out of the darkness
... The golden hand releases.
but, rather, a true tale to be told.
It is that which decides what happens for me,
and it is that that puts me into a garden filled with beauty.
I breathe in and I breathe out.
I listen to the sounds of the birds
who surround me so peacefully.
Nearby, a twig breaks, and I spin
ungracefully to view a young man.
He seems tranquil, just like the birds
who flitter by in rhythmic beats.
He strides closer: beauty personified.
It takes my breath away, so I try
in vain to gain it back. Once he is close,
a, "Hello, how are you?" comes out.
The voice entrances me, and I stutter my reply.
I love him, is all I can think.
We spend a few months together,
simply talking and listening.
Words turn into innocent kisses
and whispered promises of youth.
When the day comes for me to shove off
and marry another, I am upset;
he is, too, but begins to act strangely.
His movements are more tight, and
his laughter is shorter.
I promise him that I will escape, that I will return.
But he won't believe me, and he promises
he will do something. I go home happy,
but I forget his promise was spoken
with words unkind... and directed at me.
The night I will leave, he comes
to take me. I follow willingly.
I speak quietly of our future;
he walks in a way that should scare me,
or at least make me wary...
When he has dropped behind me a bit,
I feel a great pressure on my back.
I realize what is happening,
...I am pushed onto the ground in the dark.
It only takes a few pushes and jerks,
then I am bleeding, crying, and screaming.
When he is gone, I am too weak,
deflowered, bruised, tainted... and dying.
I look up at nothing and wonder
if the golden hand of fate will save me,
or if it will be rid of me.
A light shines on me, and a face
appears out of the darkness
... The golden hand releases.
Published 28th Sep 2012
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