Fingers Of Turmoil Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Baubles of childhood spill out upon floors of hidden memories,
rolling uncontrollably across a mind of past regrets.

Eyes always searching tops of trees, hoping to grasp onto a
branch of consciousness and not have to travel further.

Desires, innocent, unfolding from children's tight-fisted
palms, reveal unresponsibility of past deeds.

Sidewalks uncurling their fingers of turmoil, letting go of
past atrocities that were once pressed into their child-like
pavement bodies where escape was impossible.

Tangled strands of remembering are intertwined with fragments
of amnesia, dispersing themselves painfully in wakeful dreams.

Scattered throughout an inner universe of thought, memories
rush about, taking out of context, pain and sorrow, throwing
all onto horizons of once unfelt knowledge.

Now feelings have been pried out of hiding, scraping and
bleeding out into the open world of consciousness.

Blaringly outspoken, breaking in two, the heart of childhood,
crushing innocent renderings of ideals, problematic issues
forestalling the maturity of a being.

Standing at the rim of life, a gaping abyss lies waiting to
enfold the creatures of least resistance.