Poem: Vent

Poem: Vent

She kept holding on to the rope
for as long as she can remember,
blisters on her palms
Her hands unrecognisable
like a volcanic field.

She wanted to release her fingers
and set herself free.
But it was to be worth one day.

The problem was
she wasn’t pulling either.

She just stood there,
watching lava fill her hands.
and the ashes flowed down
her eyes.


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