Poem 122: Enemy Lines

Behind the door, in the dark, 

you lurk, more frightening 

than those childhood monsters 

my mother conquered

with a click of the light switch. 

For decades, you possessed me, 

altered me, held me prisoner, 

brought me to my knees, impoverished 

in so many ways. 

There were days when the sun broke through the clouds 

and my doubts cleared 

under the cerulean sky, 

when my escape seemed certain 

and a song of rejoicing 

already softened my lips. 

But, no. You tracked me 

and lay in wait. 

Ambush was only 

a matter of time. 

Why, then, did you let me go 

when I last ran? 

Why was the line you drew 

in the sand 

so shallow and vague? 

At play in the waves, 

I only realized I'd crossed it 

when I looked back 

at the beach 

and saw I was alone. 

How brave I felt! 

How bold and proud! 

Children bounded and splashed 

around me, grinning back 

at my self-satisfied smile. 

If only-- If only!  If only I'd stayed 

closer to shore--

If only the current 

that bore me further out 

had been clear and blue, 

not cold and opaque 

as unfeeling jade. 

Maybe then I might have 

noticed the crescent shadow 

that flickered 

in the depths, 

beneath me. 

Maybe then, I'd still be 

innocent of your insidious 

grasp, ensnaring my ankle 

so delicately, 

a mere tickle. 

Maybe then, I'd have remembered 

to leave the light on 

as I slipped below 

the surface of sleep

into unfathomable dreams.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem 122: Enemy Lines