Quick Write

Two eyes in a forest, open wide
Look them about a blood drenched sky
Two feet, two hands incarnadine
Two hearts, one dead, one yet alive

'Mimara' she calls
'Mimara' I listen

Who am I, what am I, why do I bleed
where am I, why am I, what do I need
I stand with feet, bare save for the slick
I breathe between lips, dry save for the sick

I follow the voice that roused me from sleep
Each step as silent as the crush of the leaves
This shift, now cold, is still wet; it sticks
These legs, still weak, still move; in shifts

'Mimara' the name holds no meaning for me
'Mimara' what could an echo possibly mean

Two eyes in the forest, open white
Stare them about my blood drenched guise
Faded stone, faded robes, an outstretched hand
An hourglass missing, a trace of red sand

'Mimara' not her, so it must be me
'Mimara' through her eyes, I finally see