Blue Muse

She wanders through her life shielding vision with shades tinted indigo In fitful sleep she's tormented by dreams colored the darkest blue and then she wakes to the comforts of coffee, nicotine and solitude Then she sits down with her muse: an emaciated girl with eyes the color of twilight; her willowy beauty, marred by scars, some etched across a hardened face, some tucked away in still, cool caverns this muse leads her by the hand through the dark streets and passageways of a war-torn city where the only visible citizens extend withered palms in the eternal language of need The muse runs from her down a muddy alley strewn with ancient bones then slips into a window leading to a musty cellar; with judgement shredded by daily hurt, the woman follows She finds her muse as a cackling crone crouched on a floor of jagged stones greedily feeding on the scraps of long dead hurts There have been times when this muse has shown her a glimpse of a lush green garden filled with blooms in a thousand hues and at those moments, she donned shades of indigo, the color of her vision This morning, a blazing sun climbs the sky and makes the colors of the world shine with new life. She is blind to all the brightness; she sits with her muse in the dimness of a dusty room with all its windows shuttered.Yet another rerun..."Blue Muse" is about a poetic friend who sometimes writes about her muse...I decided to write about her muse, too. Written March 3rd, 2002 © on Jan 20 2003 10:02 AM PST   10 • 0