Witch On The Beach [rev] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

With feelings deadened like a sore tooth extraction by
a dentist where one discovers there's no pleasure in
the place of pain, there's only absence, a small death
by removing the nerves; and this is such a case when
desperation lifts away leaving nothing behind, only a
grey boredom, resignation, acceptance of my chosen
fate - as if my spirit chose suffering on entering into
human life with the focus on its most difficult path, the
most arduous work or even the most tedious routines,
leaving the heart lifeless and cold

And - on finding it impossible to decide who to serve,
my Duchess or the Queen of Hearts, Attila the Hun or
Scorpio, Lord and Master of the Crocodile Castle; - the
impossibility of making the right choice destroys inner
peace and turns me into a shape-shifter witch on the
beach, to become a mermaid tumbling in waves who
is tossed on the sand by the force of these enormous
breakers, then leaves the sea to turn into grey-faced
me, my load lightened by the humour of a comedian-
crocodile kid who mimics voices and attitudes all so

Ludicrously - I lose my breath laughing at him & with
him; this joy makes up for these lifeless, sunless and
nondescript areas of life to be traversed in between…