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Writer's pictureLavinia Thompson

January Writing Prompts 6

"Grey Skies"


I dwelt with dreariness,

staring up into blue-grey clouds

wondering if that day

was when I ended things,

immobilized in a wintrous land

where hues of ash never wavered.

I sat with demons at a bottle’s bottom,

drowning in whiskey-drenched screams.

There was never enough

to kill the pain

to obliterate the agony

of a child who never had a chance.


I sought shelter in arms

too distant to encapsulate warmth

into my somber soul,

left screaming “go away”

when all I wanted

was tenderness and patience.

Sometimes the only thing

heard in stone-shaded clouds

were screams of a woman

frigid and fracted,

who wanted nothing more

than to let endlessness

swallow me whole.


Maybe the screaming

ripped open the firmament;

simply a crack where light

began seeping through.

Maybe only scarred hands

have strength to tear cloud frays

to scatter them

across a deadened land.

All I know is that I crawled

until one day I stood,

when I took a step

and then another,

and kept going.


Maybe oblivescence

is nothing more than

a long anguished rout,

a feeble clamber,

towards the realization

that no one can wrap up

my inner child in

warmth and love

except myself,

and no one else can tell her

what she needed to hear:


I will bend swords against

monsters and soldiers

to protect you.

You may remain hidden

beyond castle walls.

Let me fight for us.

Let me skin grey skies

until they’re achingly blue,

until the sun and moon

hang side by side

in dismay at this resilience.

You see, they too thought

we were too moribund

to ever walk back into the light.



Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay







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