Travail III

The creatures of the hills took pity on her,
Nursed her fragile being back to health

Floral vines covered her naked skeleton
Thus, she bloomed in spring,
Turned green in summer, bare-brown in winter

The moon took pity on her –
Lent its milky white for her oblong face,
The solitary rose bush lent her the crimson lips

She refused to gaze upon the world
Covered her face in a shroud of grey cloud,
That stopped just above her vermilion,
Went up over her head,
Floated all the way to the ground.

She roamed the tiny world,

Travail II

She stood at the valley’s bottom, dwarfed by immense hills;
Her haunts stifling her.
She began to ascend, the steep reed like hills
Risking life and limb,

All time was lost, as she scaled the slippery slopes –
Many moons grew and waned
Many seasons came and went.

She clambered the hills inexorably,
The affliction of her guilt,
Impelled her to climb higher and higher,
Till every strand of flesh withered away

On a warm, sunny day, many years away
Under endless azure skies