Photo Challenge #54, March 31, 2015

Escape Childhood Holunda

Image Credits: Holunder @

A swaddling of paper cranes

Drenched in motes

Of ineffable dust and radiation.

She waits, a song flexing

Between pursed lips.


Sadness is hard to fathom

On days such as this

And yet tentative screams

Still peel from her eyes

Whenever he anoints her.


I am not a child she chides

The curtains billowing

Around her as an ineffectual mother.

I have mendings to make,

Fugitive scars that grasp

For furtive straws.


I know what I ought to do

But the others are so impertinent

Their questions are a barrier

That I cannot breach.

So long as love is erstwhile

Where am I to being?


A transparent radius,

A single tear can encapsulate

Infinite totalities

Madness cannot recognize itself

For its acquisition bends,

Inextricably, all incoming light.



I really love this picture, I looked at this morning before leaving and then in the library I tried to recall the impression in this poem.