My interrogator was ruthless casting doubt on answers lies I had told myself I denied denied what I saw right in front of me The rituals repeated my history looking me square in the face Wringing the facts from me one at a time Finally spent and weak from validity I stood tall and erect to face tomorrow leaving the past behind me Copyright (C) 2020 Penny Wilson
She walked toward the Pinnacle with hesitant steps. With hands shaking, she carried her past in a silver chalice. Laying the vessel at the base of the luminous structure, she turned. With only the future ahead, her steps now light as air, she forged on, excited, at last, about what lay ahead.
Copyright (C) 2019 Penny Wilson
*This is in response to Sue’s Thursday photo prompt #writephoto. If you would like to join in on the fun, be sure to visit Sue’s blog to check it out.
I’ll take your breath away as I enter the room.
I don’t want to draw attention to myself.
I stand on my soapbox and preach my causes.
I stick my head in the sand and ignore the pain of the chaos around me.