Morney Wilson

Rookie (3rd April 1969 / Edinburgh)

The Season Of Treason - Poem by Morney Wilson

There is a child in my head. I know -
you thought she was dead but
your habits made time stand still.

It is uncommonly common
so we are told - to be
frozen, to be caught in a
freeze frame, to be stuck
at that point of bodyshock.

You will say you were a victim
not she not I not we. You
cannot help it.
You aim for pity
in this game
we play.

We played for two years -
I count the days and I
wait for her self to return.

I did not know she was gone.
I did not know she would never come back.
I did not know you had stolen her
and in the stealing there had been a death.

Did you?

Gripped by unnatural lust
you must, I believe, you must
lie sometimes in a pool of tears.

Do you?

She is forever five
She could not grow up or
grow past your season of
treason and play.

made her hateful
made her hate me
made her dead while alive.
you are always looming
large in her eye.
died and yes you can die
and your strength does not diminish.

She is quiet now after
the years
of screaming.
No one heard no one cared no one came.
Thunder loud tears
bring no help.

She is quiet now.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, June 14, 2007

Poem Edited: Friday, March 11, 2011

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