Dresses Carved from Absolution

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a poem during a chapter change in my life.

Submitted: February 01, 2019

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Submitted: February 01, 2019

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Paper dolls. In dresses. Carved. From absolution.

 

Yesterday you said it was not from you. Not from me. All of this, an eternal inevitability. Exactly as you had seen. Do see. And yet didn't see. Any of it. At all.

 

Deeming it so, I had thought, but it wasn't for you to decide.

 

And yet, I had believed. And so, layers of flowing white. Translucent. Twisting, turning, whipping about. Tearing in the gale. Wicked wind.

 

And yet, I had accepted. And so, pearls strewn along limbs. Chains of dew drops rolling along pale skin. Trailing upward from the ankle, around the belly, across the back, the breast. Slithering. Shoulders, collar bone, into the coiffure and curls.

 

Within a house of dust, built cliff side, I waited, as the waters raged below. The foam shone silver on the blackness. As if a void, it reflected naught. Surging, it shook the earth, trembled the walls, and debris softly rained down upon me.

 

You had to find it, you said. A path beyond, you said. A path for you, and thus for us, and ultimately for me. Earnest. Sincere. Determined and all the while afraid. Blue eyes slated gray with the best of intentions. I believed you. Willingly and patiently.

 

And yet. Neither Moon nor Sun appeared above. For neither divinity bore true. For there was none. Not yours, and not mine. The only light dwelt within. A light you mistook for another. A light I could not see.

 

And so, encompassed in your dress, your pearls, and within your house, I waited. Dust mixed with sea spray. Salty air dried and muted and silenced. I began to thirst as waves continued to crash, foam continued to shimmer. You continued to search, or so you said, for a path that remained clouded and unclear.

 

And slowly, and all the while, the light began to fade. The light I could not see. The light you mistook for another. For there was no Sun and there was no Moon, and believing did not make it so.

 

 

The path for you was not for us. And ultimately not for me.

 

 

Silver dissipated as the darkness settled. The waters quieted. The wind stilled. The weight of it all stifled, suffocated, and I longed for what I could no longer see. Thirsted for what I could no longer feel. Cautiously, I removed the broken pearls. Carefully, I shed the tattered gown. The worn, wooden door groaned as I left the storm-weathered house, in search of the light.

 

There was no Moon. There was no Sun.

 

That dress was not for me to wear. Those pearls were not to be adorned.

 

And a house of dust is not a home.


© Copyright 2019 CDB Paine. All rights reserved.

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