Turning Point by Reem Al AlSheikh

Posted on December 25, 2011 by


Her eyes had adjusted to darkness forgetting what ivory was, what the sunlight brought, the temperate invigorating heat on her face, what bliss seemed to be. It was no longer an emotion within her but an impossible dream left to be sent above and be dreamt upon. A ten year storm had consumed her. A dark winter sky was just not dark enough; the tree branches just not wilted enough, the world just not filthy enough for her satisfaction for her composure for her lust for disgust.  She became another transparent reflective surface refusing any help offered yet so vulnerable so fragile so brittle such an easy target. She could be completely seen through, an essence for glass. The stories not in the surface of her skin but in the curvature of her bones, the impression of her imperfections, the creases of her  lines, the fading of her bruises, the being of what seemed to be an almost twinkle in her eye. The presence of a godly figure no longer existed in her life, leaving her approval only to them. Them… those who feasted at his discomfort

Those who fed off her slaughter

Those who bathed in her tears

Those whose lives depended on her fear

Those who invoke her weaknesses at every chance she had for happiness

To them, the devil a saint

They asked to look

She allowed them to touch

Then asked to touch

She allowed them to kiss

They asked to kiss she allowed them to consume her

She learned to live the furthest away from rapture

Lingering on their submission

Dwelling on their Impulse of the celebration of the gods disapproval

Mother just another person to dishearten

Father a filthy torturous reminder

Little did they know underneath was a subliminal angel

With the portrayal of a beautiful disaster

Lusting for her deeper real self within

O precious chaos vent

Born out of love and betrayal

A Crescendo of faith consumed her

A sweet kiss from thy beloved spirit

Once a dancing flame trickled by the winds

A puppet with plentiful masters

Lead her own dance upon the moonlights arousal

A creature up rose so benign

Never have they,



Longed for her this much

Reincarnated   into a forbidden apple

Better a tease than a filled thirst eve

A enduring evergreen sprung through her

A foregone lost winter shall not be missed

Posted in: Turning Point