“Saved”

Sunrise comes so early
and finds her crouched in her corner
a bruise turning purple on her cheek.
The glow of morning brightens,
illuminating her pain, a split lip bleeding
and burst vessels leaching into her flesh.
She draws up her arms,
seeking protection from the dawn
fearing that piercing light.

All night she cowered
hearing the howl and crash
as the world around her crumpled.
Now voices call out, worried;
her vision blurs from pain
and she dares to reach out.
“Help..” she cries, trembling;
her hand sliced on the ragged edge
of a chisel, all that’s left.

Her studio is ravaged
broken bodies of marble and clay
in pieces strewn around her.
Visions of hope scattered,
severed pieces of her heart
strewn carelessly in the wreckage.
They come to rescue her not knowing
that in those shattered pieces
lies her life, her breath, her soul.

This week’s Sunday Whirling seemed to lend itself to a destructive verse, and thought this started out with a completely different story it changed in the writing, as so many do.

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2 thoughts on ““Saved”

  1. finding my emotions torn from being pleased that the piece turned from the original perceived direction to still horrified at what that destruction must have felt like. Well done.

  2. Oh my, this is a horrifying and painful piece. But it is still beautiful, especially as you describe her connection to her artwork:

    “They come to rescue her not knowing
    that in those shattered pieces
    lies her life, her breath, her soul.”

    I like that you do not mention the attacker, leaving it open to interpretation. You did such a good job capturing her cowering, her fear, her sorrow, her loss. Incredible work, Tania.

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