Still

by Kripa Gressel of A Thing of Grace

God’s umbrella wouldn’t open today
and so the leaves showered down and
the raindrops caught hold of the branches
and changed color like my sister changes her lipstick
‘today forgot to be easy, so tomorrow will be Tuxedo Pink’
branches delicately stumble through the days and
the million-colored raindrops tangle
in the middle of the night to create a new concept of color,
tangle forward like braids and backward like love
branches ramble now, and are awestruck by their reflections
color like mirrors like clear clear water and
still I am here waiting for the rain and not the leaves
because I have walked through this world, not the one that
leaves the sheets on the bed crisp and white, but
colored, or discolored by too much talk
that is what he told me last night
such talk made my head hurt and so I said no
and God’s umbrella betrayed me today
no warnings no premonitions; just the brutality
that my mirror reflects back to me every day
lipstick smeared, speared upon the china doll face,
pink and thirsty for purification, an absolution that doesn’t exist.
love forgot to run her cooling fingers over to smooth the
reflections of wrinkles bunched up in the sheets
but didn’t forget to illuminate just enough to leave me wanting…
talk of, hints of, promises of protection, God’s umbrella.
brutality – the purest kind: beckons me by night, haunts me by
day.

 

Header PhotoKripa Gressel
Writer, Thinker, Cook, Fixer, Traveler,
Lover of life, with a stare-you-down look
that is capable of making you rethink
the mischief that you are
about to engage in.

 

Written for Poetry Shares.  If you’d like to contribute to The Seeker’s Dungeon, please carefully read the guidelines here.  But first, give Kripa some love in the comment section, and then visit her over at A Thing of Grace when you’re done.

 

Featured image via http://www.wallpaperfo.com

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