0 Metanoia Forest

I.

Her name,
Ana
She was stepping on dead leaves
Riding a bike unsteadily
My treehouse still was not built
Snowcaps fed upon the oak trees

I noticed
She had been looking forward to me,
Keen
The fireflies kissed her hair
With their gleaming light

“Can I open my eyes yet?”
I asked

In front of me was an empty chair,
Barren
Then it happened in a moment
A nazzard beside me

Her bones stared at me,
Protruding
Her heavy set eyes,
Fluttering
Sleep deprivation lurked in her presence
I adored, I envied

The heavy wind beat on our chests
For that very moment
All I could do was stare,
Vacant
She spoke convincingly
I believed every distorted word

My plump hand met hers
A handshake was given
To the girl in the chair,
Empathetic

II.

She made me her frail slave
At times I was hidden
She fed me only water
My thoughts were manipulated
She stole my basic knowledge
My nights were given
To Ana
She was there
When life seemed pointless
This girl gave me comfort

I needed self-control,
And she controlled me
She spoke only of the truth
Her voice gave me comfort
Every lullaby she sung
I was in her warm embrace

Ana built my treehouse
The wood gave her splinters
Blood dripped on the tools
She was persistent,
Triumphant

III.

Nobody knew of my new friend
She hid in the forest,
A mystical land
My world of magic

People saw only glimpses
Her forehead kisses and hugs
My life was asunder

It’s difficult to forget someone
Who gave you so much
Her touch caused,
Metanoia
I was no longer who I once was



All Because
The day I met Ana
Was the day,
I met slavery


--Alyssa F., 17