Stockholm Syndrome

I don’t live in Stockholm, not that I ever did.
The diaphanous blanched flakes,
Blinding me as we coursed thru the cooling drifts.
I don’t yearn for Stockholm like I once did.
Thinking freedom reigned there.
My wanting unencumbered by truth and drudgery,
I painted only poesy.
And lifted you high above the fjords, as if on display,
Your breastplate and stolid horns, erect shafts,
Piercing the sunless day.
I haven’t dreamed of Stockholm
Since you stormed from the chalet.
The door to that domicile is locked,
And the snow has blown away.

Hammer of God, Copyright © 2018 Aria Ligi, Poetic Justice Books, and Amazon

One Reply to “Stockholm Syndrome”

  1. Aria’s final verse always rings in the mind. It makes the entire poem stick inside your head.

    What I enjoy about this poem is the sense of loneliness. It’s deep and memorable, just like Aria’s timeless poetic style.

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