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    dots Submission Name: the indiandots

    Author: blackbird
    ASL Info:    31/male/reykjavik iceland
    Elite Ratio:    2.35 - 194/328/300
    Words: 321
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 511
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 2193


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsthe indiandots

    the indian:
    she seems so out of place
    tiptoeing down your staircase
    it wasn't so long ago
    that her hair,
    once in braids,
    extended from the flat of your bed
    to the floor
    spiraling there
    in an insanity of crazed circles.

    but that was years ago,
    hundreds maybe.
    now she just balances,
    walking up and down
    until you're sick of her.
    she is always in the way
    & the constant creaking
    keeps you from sleeping.
    how long has it been
    since shes spoken
    one warm word?
    or one cold word
    for that matter.
    she's just on repeat..
    here she comes again.

    "will you stop now?"
    you plead, but she continues,
    eyes intent on nothing really.
    she has nothing better to do
    than to provide for you this torture.
    when you touch your hand
    to the hem of her skirt,
    when you move
    to shove her from her perch,
    your hand, once again,
    passes right through her.
    she is not red,
    like they say,
    but rather golden.
    her cheeks are high,
    her teeth shine with a white
    that's heavy on the eyes
    compared to her skin.
    & she never stops smiling.

    what is she waiting for?
    is it the moon?
    is it the man that took her away
    when she was only 7
    to that desert cabin
    she dare not remember?
    is it the memory
    of that dead mountain pass
    that filled with snakes
    when the dam was released
    when she was only 13
    as she watched
    as all of her memories
    became an empty lake,
    a place to keep the fish
    that would never feed her people.
    it reminded her of something
    that her grandfather once told her,
    that, "the way of of heaven
    is a vast net
    & that although it's mesh is wide,
    it catches everything."
    her true name is a hundred colours,
    but you will never know that.

    Submitted on 2009-01-05 05:11:24     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
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    ||| Comments |||
      Thank you for this depth.
    The first white scroll that I have been drawn to stop and visit awhile.
    A gentle haunting story that covers alot of life in few words. You sound like you are red in white skin. A memory re-visited, understood and un-vieled.
    | Posted on 2009-01-06 00:00:00 | by RomiKumu | [ Reply to This ]

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