Hey there, it's Lydia here! This is a poem I wrote last week. I'm going to be posting my poetry on our blog more often, so keep checking our site!
I don’t know its Location,
it should be on the left
below my breast
in that general station.
Beneath cages of solid white
and fillings of pink
wrapped in a cocoon-like state
where blue or maybe red pours,
restlessly chasing each strip
from finger to feet.
But I cannot find its location.
The doctor said all is well
that aorta is functioning
and left atrium is all in place,
that your heart beats bebum-bebum
pushing golden life in regular trace.
You’re pretty and young –
I don’t understand
How can you not find its Location?
Ah, I think I remember now
as light poured onto my form
seen through a crack all broken and torn.
shimmering impenetrable grace
filled with sunflowers wet with dew
and bees floating from each face.
There are splinters
shards all battered and blue
some mended some not
crying when the cold wind blew.
I felt that
fingers grazing that bloody wall
the bees stop,
the sunflowers shudder, die and drop
and a stage comes into view.
I cannot find its Location