Gloria runs from zombies
who live yet are dead,
growling and hobbling,
their danger in their numbers.
"Leave me be!" she wails
as she scrambles up a rocky slope.
Her snarling pursuers follow,
but they have no coordination.
They topple off each crag they try to cling to
and weep
in their thousands,
tattered faces contorting with need
like a mob of old and wrinkly children.
"Ignore them,"
Gloria mutters to herself.
"Your name
means glory."
She has learned the ways
of a world that eats its own.
The bonfires of walled settlements
glitter in the desert.
She'll journey there in time.
For now she keeps ascending,
until the stone heights that
the living dead
cannot scale
are simply hills she climbed
to reach mountains.
YOU ARE READING
Heartpen: Poems of a Cardiac Quill
PoetryAdventure calls to seekers from different eras, different towns, even different worlds. Paths cross. Journeys intertwine. This poetry book highlights mysteries that drive us. It explores loss, endurance, and the struggle to find truth. Featuring gr...
