A Delicate Disentanglement

She rose up out of the Autumn leaves,
swiping cobwebs from her hair and face.
Yawned thrice, shuddering like
‘Someone Had Just Walked Over Her Grave’
and looked around with wide eyes
which were regaining their colour and sparkle.
Physically ‘Stuck’ for months,
she had travelled acres inside,
traversing rocky terrain and cavern bottom.
Look, a magpie…
squinting slightly, she half-smiled,
it was so nice to be focusing
upon something other than herself for a change.
The Woods-edge brought the Light back in,
as she baby-stepped out into the rolling meadow.
A church bell in the distance,
signalled late afternoon…
and stepping towards its homely sound,
she noticed blackberries bursting ripe
in amongst the ancient, thorny hedgerow,
and was so very glad indeed
to be back walking into the land of the ‘Living’

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.