Beautifully Imperfect

I thought I was broken
a marionette without strings
slumped on the floor
body in distress.
As I lay there
tears falling like rain to the floor
I find within me
resides this strength
that I had never felt before.
Tentitavely I probe it
afraid that I will be shocked
nothing happens
I crawl forward
amazed at what I have found.
I struggle to sit up
strings not required
I can climb to my feet
and seek my desires.
No longer broken
for I have begun to reconstruct
becoming who I am…..
beautifully imperfect.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
March 1/18

Mother’s Rage

Silver stream protector of the land

winding and bowing around rock and sand

high above the rotting cliff

lays the crumbled castle

where the Midnight club met.

They came but once a year

to renew their bonds with the land

with the energy around them

with Mother Earth.

As the time drew near

a development began to take place

a defacement of the sacred ground.

The Midnight club met and stared in horror

at the broken terrain

the fallen castle

at the machinery  whose claws

dug deep in moist soul

murder of crows above.

They muttered and murmered

they called upon the Mother

to wreck havoc on the men so crass

as to pervert her domain.

Come morning as the sun rose

brilliant scarlets and violet pinks

men stood at the edge of the land

across the crevice lay nothing

no machines

no castle

no trace that there had every been.