An Incantation: A Celebration of Endings

The current running through this spell has unknown power and pent-up force
And pulses dangerously through my core–
It’s difficult to shape my lips and push the serrated-edged words forth
Without choking on their steely syllables.
This spell, this incantation—it’s for you
And I write it—here—to remember
How toxic blue the sky is at midnight
How seething anger has the texture of pea soup
How silence echoes, and only anguish offers up a reply.
This spell, this incantation, is only simplistic on the surface
Its true meaning is only revealed to those who pause and ponder
Wait and wonder
And begin to understand that endings are only shards of imagination,
Masters of disguise–
They are beginnings cloaked in misery.
For this incantation I need an array of ingredients found only along our deserted and worn path
Look closely–
You will find them cast away, neglected, tattered, war-torn
Some left by me
Some left by you
But none of it important anymore—
It is the end, after all.
Our ending can only be found amid the thick weeds and briar patches, among scraggly branches and
the hard, packed dirt beneath our soles.
Look closely–
To begin our celebration we need a swirl of gossamer promises; a pack of sheer, honest lies; and fistfuls
of delicate rage confused with bittersweet passion.
Stir them together
Add insularity, ambiguity, uncertainty
And there you have it.
Us.

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Published by

CharMarie

Mommy, Writer, Teacher, BRCA2+ Previvor, Sports Fan, Logophile, Bibliophile, Hedonist, Perpetual Bon Vivant mixed with the Occasional Curmudgeon. you can find me on Twitter @CharIsAWriter and here at charcunning.wordpress.com

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