Reflections
I was 16-years-old when I wrote this dark, foreboding piece.  It was decades before I realized I had been writing about my own abuse.  Back then I titled it

‘Passionate Death’

Flames shoot through the darkness
Yet the darkness is not there.
Passion erupts in a mind
Yet it is a mind cold to the eye.
Ecstasy bypasses pride
Yet the pride is only a cover.
Confusion bursts through to the mind
But a mind there is no longer.
*
All is animal and savage
Yet a wounded animal hides.
Hiding provides no safety
Yet safety is felt there.
Blackness shrouds the mind
Yet light is all around
Death prevails above all.
Copyright 1969 Joyce Bowen

About the Author:  Joyce Bowen is a freelance writer and public speaker.  Inquiries can be made at crwriter@comcast.net

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