The White Trail

The white- that was not so pure

Rough – coarse

Almost invisible

Trying to camouflage
But definite.
It’s path.

On a rampage
It corroded everything
The carefree hearts
The innocent smiles
The trusting hugs
The dreams..
Of Colourful wooden tops

Left it’s taste
In the mouth
Of the future

The White of anger
Of Blind righteousness
Of Absence
Of Loss
Of Hopelessness
Of the void…
Of displaced memories

Of tears
Unshed

I look up
Surprised by the taste
of salt on my lips

I am surprised
By the intensity of pain
It’s not mine…
Or maybe
It is

The white trail
Has found it’s way to me
Across the Borders
After all.

A deep realization
A coming Home
A Finding
I am just another you.

A Silent Prayer
Escapes.
Dear God let me never forget this.

Rhea