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Devout

Inspired by S.K. Nicholas’ prose piece Sweetheart

I have worn my armor

so devoutly

buckled on thick titanium plates

donned my Templar helm

until only eyes

only mouth

were visible

let this armor become my prison

a soldier in silent battle

on an empty field

 

I have treated

protecting

my vulnerability

my hidden depths

like a religion

something holy

something sacred

a duty requiring

constant vigilance

 

I have stood

locked in place

sweat dripping down my back

the heft

weight

of my protection

folding me in half

diminishing me

muffling everything

everyone

not contained in this suit of arms

this shiny sarcophagus

 

Weary of the battle

but full of trepidation

fingers trembling

clumsy

I start to slowly remove

the pieces

let them fall to my feet

like abandoned religion

rediscover the feel

of sun-baked hair

cool spring breeze against

warm skin

feel of flesh

grasping my hand

the piercing ice water pain

of awakening heart

that reminds me that I breath

that I bleed

pure red rivulets down pale skin

remember what it is like

to be

painfully

achingly

alive

in all my shattered beauty

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

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