The Sands
A poem by Julia R. DeStefano
The Sands
My dearest Emily,
tucked away in your room from life’s pestilence -
how I’ve become something like you in this chapter
as I count the days of solitude
in tandem with each grain of falling sand
both never to return!
Bone-weary but not broken -
determined am I to squeeze what I can
out of saber-toothed hours
that try to destroy me even in sleep.
But oh, does it always come back to the pen -
words to fill me with new life -
headstrong desire
to write powerful enough to burn blocks!
I can taste the fireworks,
primed and ready
in their yearning to explode overhead -
glorious victory to burn, burn, burn
through the black of this dismal night!
To decimate the doom and gloom of thought!
And oh Emily, would this Red Queen be glad -
she who hungers -
to feel him come again!
Footfalls to her window
because he can’t deny
the fire she lights inside him
for a second longer!
© Julia R. DeStefano
