WASTELAND
Candice James
Copyright 2010
Like a feverish river running rampant
Through freshly carved caverns of pain,
This moment clings to the shore it’s battering.
This place in time is somehow out of time
But still it continues to beat with a heart of its own.
This wasteland of rivers, caverns,
Moments, shorelines and magic
Is not new to me.
I’ve walked this terrain with stumbling footsteps
Trying to correctly ascertain the color of its tears,
The depth of its devastation,
The measure of its iniquity,
The level of its pain.
I will walk it again and again
Until this broken pain can bend,
Until this wasteland’s at an end.