Ribcage

Rising and falling, warm

Nestled in pink, brown, yellow flesh

Flushed with pulsating crimson coursing beneath the surface

Throb to power rhythm, flow of survival

 

Stark white framework

Impending artifact

The form, suddenly uniform

Each shell held independence

A unique path, now reduced to dust

 

Who decides I pursue the life of less?

What enchantment leads to this tragic destination?

When do I accept the small destiny, the miniature existence?

Where do I claim the forever failure of my girlhood to rule the world, the stage, the word?

How do I desire the gleam of that lacking the glitz and glamour?

 

Will you tell me that once I have kids I’ll understand?

Will that be your next lie?

Will you tell me that I need to be realistic?

 

That I need to settle, to marry

That I must procreate to find meaning

 

I am not be content to leave a mere pile of bones

I am here for a purpose, alive for a reason

 

Oh, what’s that?

 

You shake your heavy head at my folly

You say I search for meaning in a world with none

Your disbelief is your burden, not mine

A journey with a lofty destination is far more fulfilling than one going nowhere

 

You shall see

 

I’ll get somewhere, be someone

Not frivolous and without weight

I’ll be an illuminator of dark places

Those you ignore and wish away

The journey of just one day

I wandered the hallways of a chrome land with my tired limbs dragging. Each step was agony and I struggled to keep my eyelids open. Every time I stopped to rest, all I was presented with were hard chrome corners and frigid steel benches. None of the surfaces were soft or inviting.

I continued my journey and just when I thought I could not move another inch I rounded a corner and before me lay mountains of colossal downy pillows. Feathers rained lightly like the finest snow flurry. My knees buckled and I fell into the pile which curled around me like the embrace of a lover. I succumbed to sleep, the chrome above me faded into the palest blue with picturesque clouds bouncing from one billow to the next.

I awoke from fully refreshed and renewed. I pulled myself to a standing position and waded through the sea of fluff. I glimpsed a ship in the distance I made my way towards the craft and planned my adventure to the next port. I crossed four seasons in one day on my journey to the ship. Many times I looked back over my shoulder in longing to the bed that had granted me rest prior to the trek. I froze in the winter of that day and baked in the summer; through the autumn and fall, I wept tears of frustration. I kept moving forward and only allowed myself a few more backwards glances. As the ship filled my horizon, my limbs grew heavy once more and the ground, covered with stones and brambles, offered no solace to my weary soul.

Once I reached the ship, I collapsed onto the thorny soil in defeat. The ship was not a ship at all; it had merely been a mirage. There was nothing there, no water, no vessel to carry me from this place. The grey sky of my sorrow grew darker and rain began to fall. Large, angry drops beat into the back of my skull and stung my exposed flesh. I tried to pull myself up, to run, to find shelter, but my limbs would not obey, my lips parted and my throat tried to push forth a scream of agony, yet no sound issued forth. Just as suddenly as the torrent began, it stopped.

A cheerful sun broke through the once dark sky, illuminating tranquil sand dunes all around me. I felt a whoosh of air and a cloud dipped from the sky and scooped me up like an infant, cuddling my dripping shivering body in the warm opulence of its folds.  Once again I succumbed to sleep. This time content in knowing my journey had reached its end and I was at peace.