Hidden Pearls

The pearl necklace has been shoved
into a dark corner of a musty box

in a boarded-up room at the end
of a long, forbidden hall,

which itself has been plastered
painted and pictures hung.

Each night of pain and death
rattling in my chest—at 2:22

that child moans, the raspy voice
awakening me. My bladder

begs for release. I am
at the edge of panic.

I am eight years old.
The house is filled with smoke.

I know that I am dying.
Alone, never to meet my future

after all the redecorating.  I feel
her searching a diligent spiral

circling back again and again
to the places where I hold

energy. Buzzing right here
secondhand smoke beads

unstated yet clear: your life means nothing
the silken strands: dear child.

Needing to belong.
If I die, I’ll be loved.

In my darkest nights of pain
and doom, I capitulate,

the shock–jackpot–
reverberating through the realm.

Coordinate the terms in the collapse
of edifices built on ley lines

hidden simmering truths
ride tight in a scar

between lungs and heart,
contracted, dangerous, never

handled with care.
We see each other there.

When merit’s bought, the
trust, the love word fraught.

I hold now loosely, airing
out the musty space, connect

the friable wires, luster
necklace interlace.  Wearing

this relic plucked from the
ancient shame, inflamed

into a being I proclaim
here I am, at last untamed.

Inspired by: Coordinate, Realm, Capitulate and Jackpot.

 

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

5 thoughts on “Hidden Pearls”

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