The Island
Isolation sits
On islands.
Tiny inlets
and bays
Its halls.
Lagoons do
Not count.
All closed up
And surrounded
By water.
My protection from
The cycloptic ogres
That have all
But buried me
With chains
Of tired green algae
And hardened coral.
I mend my injuries slowly.
Seeking revenge
Is not of my morality.
But a seeking of aid is.
In the distance
A life raft floats
With a line in my direction.
Bidding me to come aboard-
The S.S. You'll Be Fine In No Time.
Straight from: The Attic Of My Heart***
June 7,2009
poem by Theodora Onken
Added by Poetry Lover
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