Mythological Growths

Cycloptic serpent
scorched deep
into my being,
color of decay
not even attempting
to camouflage
into my resilient green,
laying eggs,
disease breeding,
growing larger,
but still unable
to see,
for at my core
is also my heart,
and it bleeds
in light.
You try
to grow more eyes,
but this love
will always
render you
not Karma
but what is right
for I have falsely seen
too clearly
all my life

your lies.

The exorcist has arrived:
good final bye.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Mountaintop Beauty

I hiked to 8,000 feet above the level of the sea
only to confirm my reputation of being a freak, 
for at a summit with world-famous views, 
I am the only one mesmerized stooped, 

having spotted the little bloom…

I feel the familiar flutter in my soul. 
My heart flies home. 

More minuscule than ever, 
the wildflower reminds me
of the mountains I have moved
to get here, to these
identity truths. 

And I remain committed and proud
to be the freak they deem me as, 
the one with eyes turned
in the other direction 
still following maps
to the treasure
that I am.