-By Joni Caggiano
Misplaced in a forest of petrified people
with counterfeit smiles and fixed stares.
The trees have quit clapping with parts disfigured
from clear-cutting, and fire.
I drift on a rain cloud that has no water
while fairies stay warm in a bubble of air.
Their numbers have dwindled like bees
as tears fall through the cloud turning to ice
my ducts are now empty as I will soon be.
Bits of me are falling, turning to white stone
no part of the earth or the moon can I flee
so I will become part of the forest or sea.
My cloud is falling gently, and I land in a nest
where a grayish eaglet lay stiff with siblings,
in a tree,
that is singing
yield to my death.
Joni Caggiano is a self-published author of the book, “The Path Toward the Light.” Her blog is the-inner-child.com, where she has published many poems, photography, and short stories. Her blog is an effort to give back as a survivor as an Adult Child of Alcoholics and to also write about things she feels matter in this world we live in today. She started writing songs and poetry at the age of thirteen and have been writing ever since.