Where are the Unicorns?

Dark Poetry

They say unicorns come
to the broken-hearted
like some kind of angel
burning pain,


but the trees don’t breathe
in their trance,
their icy nails
clawing my personal

and no silver ignites
the shadows,
liquid kingdoms opening
their gates—

they could be mouths of wisdom,
or the edge of the
or just emptiness,
it’s all
the same to me.


Where are the unicorns,
splashing like milk
in the stoney air?


I saw you in dreams,
above my shivering
blue world,
I saw you and
I believed in beauty
for a while,


and I believed there were
answers, but I
didn’t need to know them.


So where are you now,
when the Earth is a blade
rusting in tears
and the ground
rambles on under
an abandoned city
of stars?


Patricia Joan Jones

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. Donkerman's picture

Dear Patricia

What a powerful poem! Yes, I saw loneliness in this poem – starkly etched in your projection – and I can hear the haunting bells calling for the Unicorns…

Kangaroo hugs from Down Under