Ink of My Shelter


Oh, a storm is threat'ning my very life today... If I don't get some shelter
Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away - Rolling Stones


I crawl into ink
where pain has
no blood stains
and agony is
anesthetized
with poetry.

Torment penned
on confession’s diary
shelters me from
the needle points
of terrifying silence.

Folded into butterflies
I send my voice on wings
praying the world outside
my prison will rescue me.

©Susie Clevenger 2020

For all those who must shelter in place with abusers...May you be heard...May you be rescued.

Inspired by Carrie Thackeray Van Horn's Shelter prompt at Word Crafters

Comments

  1. Carrie Van HornMay 21, 2020 at 4:06 PM

    I adore every stanza but the last one stole my heart!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Gillena CoxJuly 5, 2020 at 1:08 PM

    What a gorgeous lockdown poem, deeply emotive, i can crawl right in there with your ink strokes

    Happy Sunday

    much love...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Sanaa RizviJuly 5, 2020 at 3:17 PM

    I read online about people who are shelter in place with domestic abuse. My heart goes out to them and like you, I too wish that they may be rescued. This is a powerful poem! 💝

    ReplyDelete
  4. ZQJuly 5, 2020 at 5:14 PM

    Powerful!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Magical Mystical TeacherJuly 5, 2020 at 6:26 PM

    Voicing your prayers (or writing them) is surely a path toward their fulfillment.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Rosemary Nissen-WadeJuly 5, 2020 at 6:41 PM

    A poignant voice from a terrifying scenario.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Old EggJuly 6, 2020 at 12:07 AM

    Most of us hate change unless we are the ones that make the changes!

    ReplyDelete
  8. JamesJuly 6, 2020 at 10:17 AM

    i agree...writing makes the world go fine... i love your poem there. Nice write!

    ReplyDelete
  9. purplepeninportland.comJuly 7, 2020 at 5:34 PM

    Love your poem, an its message.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tantrum

Image
Ms. Rainbow enters the stage in her gown of charmeuse silk quoting Wordsworth and silences the sun’s soliloquy on his relationship with clouds. Her theatrics are more jealous tantrum than artful expression or love of poetry. For all her brilliant colors she only draws a moment’s adulation before her attraction begins to fade. ©Susie Clevenger 2019 #NaPoWriMo2019 Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform
Read more

How Do I Shrink the Moon

Image
My mom says my imagination is too big. I should cut it into smaller pieces so the coloring book in my head can fit on the kitchen table. But how do I shrink the moon or turn a rainbow into ribbon when tomorrow seems a year away? I never fit where I am or reach where I want to go. Chairs are uncomfortable, shoes keep my feet from feeling the grass, and every time I see a butterfly I know one day I’ll have wings. Mom can’t hear the dandelions or hold a spoon against the window to catch drops of sunlight before night covers it with stars.  I don’t think I ever want to grow up. I’d be too bored. Where would I put my teddy bears when my bed is nothing but an ocean of pillows? Susie Clevenger 2024  What's Going On? ~ Children   Susie Clevenger 2024
Read more

Dust Spew of Dragons

Image
  I love dragon fields spewing August dust into rain barren clouds.   The anger of summer at the end of its rope is theater I understand.   Inevitable chokes with its curse, and the rib shredding of change doesn’t earn our applause.   Sisters of sun and steamed pudding moon we know Autumn will soon arrive to taunt us with winter. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 The Sunday Muse #121
Read more