METAPHOR

She searches for her tracks in words blown in the wind,
embroidering her steps carelessly, just she with herself.
Something in her soul wants the benefit of doubt, a
possible magic, maybe a Being-There.

There is a crazy voice in the air,
there are torn moons in this insane
quest for what transcends and defeats her,
Something opens a new door, something is
an unanswered question.

Her fate has no hands, her eyes were gouged out
as she tried to see her own darkness, her steps are
immersed in delirium and blood.

She sees through this one who surprises
and dwells in her mind though. Maze inside,
she is beyond any control.

Incompleteness, pieces of her dreams scattered somewhere,
her weak human condition sees what is over the edge
as her meaning craves for coherence. She is lost in
language. She is a metaphor.


Karla Bardanza