The price of my soul is a river of flowers,
a sack full of diamonds, the remnants of dreams

The grass has turned yellow, the trees dry and broken
My garden is pierced by wild music of screams

My shirt’s torn and dirty, my pants patched and worn,
I’m covered in fear and the smell of defeat

When lies are exposed and the truth never spoken,
the rain tumbles down and flows over my feet

The sunshine explodes, the moonbeam gleams narrow
I start on a journey which never will end

I don yellow boots and a quiver of arrows
to pound down a roadway that winds round a bend

There is no armor strong enough to protect me
or tackle the demons that spring up from the grass

A pound of potatoes, a bushel of peppers,
are blackened and rotting as I stumble past

—

Born and raised in New York City, Margaret Fieland has been around art and music all her life.  Her poems and stories have appeared in journals such as  Turbulence Magazine, Front Range Review, and All Rights Reserved.  She is the author of  Relocated, Geek Games,  Broken Bonds, and Rob’s Rebellion published by MuseItUp Publishing, and of Sand in the Desert, a collection of science fiction persona poems. A chapter book is due out later this year.