My cloak of fury


that ache
caking me, taking my days
wasting me away

twisting within
reshaping, changing, breaking
reavealing a new shade

a midnight glow
seen through wildblown trees
on a newborn sleepless night
peeping, revealing the sheen
of the moon’s hidden side
the whisper of light
before the break of a day
paling to the tint of indignation
powerfully it sings to my sinews
I taste its righteousness
its rightness
I play with it,
watch it shimmer
into a brighter shade
the colour of anger, of rage
it wins me over, taking the pain
that has slain me for so many years
with eager hands I grasp my cloak of fury
and wrap it around strong shoulders
I wear the power of my youth
you cannot beat me down

©Jane Paterson Basil


8 thoughts on “My cloak of fury

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