Saturday, July 27, 2013


Can I still protect you
from your self hurt,
can I ever guard you
when the accusations
you hear are not 
spoken by me, but come
through the restless
dreams of a young woman,
an old vision that grows
wispier by the year,
speaks more stridently,
pleading for one last
embodiment before she
separates completely from
your soul, absorbed into
the routine of life that
keeps chaos outside the
family gate. This fragile
empire you rule inside of you
divides itself into the voices
of your lost past, each shouting 
out wishes and commands
for the day and the hour,
impossible to please.

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

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