A Poem by Cierra

I'm definitely not a religious person but the words just flowed out so well and beautifully.


The air was chilly, made colder by the merciless wind blowing in from the darkened sky. It was passed midnight, I was sure. The moon was not quite to the middle of the sky but it occupied a seemingly permanent space above me, illuminating the terrifyingly empty path home. Every horror movie I had ever seen flashed before my eyes, as if my life consisted solely of monster movies with bad plots. I told myself time and time again that the movies were simply a bad Hollywood attempt at fueling the general public’s heightening adrenaline problem. The repetitive reassurance was not enough to keep my mind at ease, especially as I passed the old town cemetery that only gets traffic on the rare event a funeral is taking place. This path was overgrown by thorn bushes and tall dead grass when I first arrived in this small Washington town. By the looks of things, this town could easily sub in for a cheesy horror film destination, if it hasn’t already. Through the years, I’ve walked this path so many times that the dead grass turned to dirt and the thorns run from my feet. Tonight, under this unforgiving scene, I can feel the intensity of impending danger, spreading the tingling in my chest all throughout my body. Without much more than a thought, my pace quickens to a small sprint, my breath becoming more visible as I wheeze the winter air from my lungs. To my right, opposite of the old cemetery, a snap of a twig quickens my pace and sends me into a full out adrenaline induced response. From the darkness, a figure arises and dawns on me like tomorrow will never come. As the shadow looms over my small body, I’m sure that I’ll never see the sun shine again. The heat of the rays will never grace my features and warm my bitter soul. The feet against the concrete grow louder and my mind is racing so fast that I do not realize the pitter patter is my shoes on the earth. Dead ahead, there is a small church beaconing me to run inside, to run to the temple of my people and pray that the darkness will not follow. The church comes closer, revealing to me the errors of my thoughts and of my being. The red brick building grows larger and the shadow behind me disappears into the shadow of doubt in my mind. The empty house of worship mocks me as it grows closer and larger but remains out of reach. My breathing becomes strained, the audible wheezing masking any form of escape. The darkness that chased me once before returns and gains speed, faster than God is able.

Suddenly, I stop.

There is no church, there is no shadow following me. The moon returns, illuminating the way. The beaten path, which I wore on my own, goes untouched as I realize how quickly I was able to fall into this habit of fear and loneliness. The emptiness of the night fills, only slightly, with the silent hope that tomorrow will bring the proper illumination to guide me through the dark paths, the horror movie scenes. The warmth of the sun’s forgiveness will bring the church closer and attainable for the first time in the years I have lived here. One day, I will make it home.

© 2016 Cierra

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O wao...your writings sends lots of peaceful and yet stricking emotions

Posted 6 Years Ago

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1 Review
Added on May 25, 2016
Last Updated on December 11, 2016
Tags: religion, spirituality, darkness, fear, pain



Bloomington, IN

I like to narrate things in my head using different voices and accents. I like to leave people guessing. I like listening to classical music and imagining things that will never be reality. Writing i.. more..

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A Poem by Cierra