Untitled _ January 08 Poem by Petra Creffield

Sometimes the flame arises all on it’s own
Sometimes despite my push and my blow
The flame will not flow
Yet if I sit in quiet solitude
You come to me
The fire the free
Dancing spirit
Always out of my control
This I should know
By
Now
Yet my patience lacks
My frustration an eternity of cracks
Needless I say
For too many days I have strayed
Into the wilderness of the above and the beyond
Breaking every bond
In my streams of insecure paranoia
What a waste this may be
Of what is you and what is me
I scream out in the sympathy
Of what we could be
If I were not be
And this time were not so
I tell it so


Petra Creffield January 2009