Mirage Poem by Nadia Mottley

I wade through blood red crocuses, past fleeting hills
I must and will reach the shore that haunts my memory still
Haggard trees which rise in sentinality
Wildly crashing boughs strain my tenacity

Cloying vines twist nets of blight
Intrepid gray against the wintering sky
Crawling with scorpions covered in red fungi
Stark and strange they shout, She must die!

And now the earth rises under me
leading me on to eternity
I run for I can just, just see
The fading edge of beloved shore