In the Weeds


The woman laid herself down in a field of knotweed with a razor blade and the men came running, first the white shirt, then the red hat, then the black shoes that danced to the sirens’ screams. Help is on the way, but she looks so peaceful over in the sunlight and hot shadows. Surrendered. They never come running if you’re tenacious and strong. I know. I’ve been writhing here lonely for days, weeds growing from my heart.

Words ©2014, Jen Payne
Image: Great piece of turf study of weeds, Albrecht Durer, 1503

13 thoughts on “In the Weeds

  1. Somehow the words of the poem suit the weather outside my window. It’s a beautiful piece but I’m glad to know, from the above comments, that it does not reflect your state of mind. Still, someone does need to write about the not-so-happy endings that we all experience.


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