Desert Inside
Face disciplined to show outwardly
none of the the cracks and fissures
of a hearts long drought.
I water with feigned laughter
the brittle, dry deseret inside.
Able to function one more day.
Calm, sanity smiles, accepting
the facade that society sees.
Unsuspecting, never guessing.
Beneath turbid water is never clear
It only mirrors the sun it cannot absorb.
Cool gray waters able to reflect branches
twisted and tangled, in ways
that avoid reaching out to draw in
those who might bring me to life.
Few have tread this splintered path
past mirage to reality, and stayed.
Those few golden souls, are leathered.
Weathered, by deserts of thier own.
© 2012 Tamera Dobbins l