Poetry Story 4

In her cunning she had evaded death
Now lost
She wondered
Endless distances of tree
Foilage, Bush, Flower, Grass, Mud.
Cold had not breached her flesh to quiver
Though she didn’t dare stop moving.
Ignoring the common sense of dread in the dark,
She pressed herself forwards
How long had been lost?
She cursed the fools that set her legs to speed,
The guilted herself,
Superstition and suspicion had kept them alive
Not her, clearly, but them.
Now she would die from the wilderness.
Stomach squeezed and twisted
Muscles ached leaked bone tired.
She tripped.
Her feet could no longer carry their burden,
Cold set in, a smiling whisper giggled at her back, she curled into a ball.
Her eyes shut.
At least sleep was peaceful.