Wednesday, June 10, 2009


Accursed obligation cast forth on a whim.
The silencer of long-forgotten childhood dreams.
Acceptance, tainted with guilt and confusion.

If the only choice is the road less travelled, which road would you take?

Archaic burden, betrayal of suffrage,
offered at the junction of independence.
It is for you to take, safe-keep, pass on.
Your milestone; your right of passage.
A diamond heirloom that cuts through
and leaves sinewy scars.
Hidden from prying eyes,
an invisible yoke around your neck.
A legacy of words, disproportionate
to the stature of the child.

Gilt-edged maternal instinct, worn as
a heavy cloak that did little to alleviate the chill of shame.
Accepted reluctantly, despite recognising it for the ghoul it was.

An expensive price to pay for love?
Ask yourself - who is responsible for this?

1 comment:

  1. Gilt-edged. Love that phrase! I was mulling over it last night for some strange reason. Brilliant.