Dowager

Awareness emerged from an encrusted, shallow region,
somewhere dormant, yet entrenched,
anticipating its blazing moment to emerge,
steamrolling its course to sadistically interrupt
the placid temperance that piously protected
against briny assault. The forgone flashes
steered into solemn hearts and fetched
eminent emotions that swirled and spun:

consternation,
anxiety,
palpitations.

The relentless spirit consumed, penetrated,
and scrutinized as the dowager unraveled,
revealing the barren entrance as a blistered core,
searing, branding as a maimed doe,
one that craved to be squashed,
nullifying the splotches of forgiveness
she had presumably resolved:

violation,
encroachment,
penetration.

The sweeping tears rocked down her facade,
stinging her coral pink cheeks,
as she lucidly recalled the acrid assault,
the defenseless, beloved lamb
brutally battered and bitterly breached,
as if she were a senseless trinket,
as if the shrouded years of the past
could annihilate her tranquil present,
her golden universe crashing, smearing,
shattering her cranberry refuge:

heinous,
depraved,
malignant.

She sat perched, like a stunning flamingo,
perplexed by the impetuous rush
that inhabited her frenetic ruminations,
panicked as her vascular quivered,
wondering when the horrid madness
would abort, terminating this rocky ride
on the demented rollercoaster.
These fickle emotions will silently cease,
but not this eventide. She just hungered
to tussle through the bedeviled blackness,
ignoring the stretched wound that rabidly stained.