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Anarchic sensations
disturb order.
Archaic ruminations
brought to the fore.

Vulnerable once again,
caught in sunlight
after many a dark day.
No shade.

Forlorn shadows beckon
this creaky heart,
dislodged after all
this
time.

Broken free
of its stable holding pattern.
Gone missing
from its well-worn throne.

The priestess
has torn this fast beating,
bloody organ from beneath
its skeletal cage.

Pulled back ribs
to expose an open chest.
Her soft, delicate fingers
caress the warm, fleshy meat.

Heart reacts
like a creature
unto itself.

Fear of the unknown;
heart rate jumps.

At a crossroads of
fatality and resurrection.
The future unclear.
All that is left to do is
breathe.

Breath calms a rapid heart.
Breath sooths a shaky soul.
There is a foothold here…
somewhere.

Archie Underwood
5.4.2009