s t r a n d e d

immersed,
clutching pieces of what was left
i trod, by myself,
along the eerie spaces of solitude

in damnation,
i stretched my weary arms
and cast my final dirge.
i concede…

you have emerged as the victor
in perfect bliss
while i, wounded
sealing the pain.

i remain
the steep woe
that has rained
on that september rain.

as published in The Red Ink, March 2006