They are where I left them,
like old shoes and regret.
Never far.
My witless attachment
to what I cannot hold,
never ages, never dims.
I divine wood from wind,
seed from ash;
a broken toy in it's shoe box,
the rope swing
across secret summer creeks.
I'm never happier than, when
greeted by a smile,
all seems forgiven;
So what, if knowing, beneath the skin,
like some pinched nerve in the moment,
the dark germ breaks it's husk,
as dawn flecks the sand with pink
and promise.
Take me through the blind night,
leaving all behind.
Raise the curtain,
lay, poignantly, aside
even my past,
as a cast-off scrap of dream,
my most cherished memories,
now, not what they seemed.
Light breaks through and burns
that thin veneer.
Only later, I hear,
it's not the sun,
but flesh and the tides
washing over my forlorn hopes
in an acid bath
of renewal.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Again, I am not let down by your wonder of words.
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Ahhh, and it's = its. Sorry, I had to!
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If this piece reflects your longing to cast off the past and renew, please know that your writing often takes us away where, for a moment, we can be outside ourselves and be renewed in your vision.
"Take me through the blind night,
leaving all behind."
Indeed, but keep your muse. I adore this piece, and good luck, rut.
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Wonderful imagery, the pack rat in us never wants to let go of the past... it is what defines us... we are what it is!
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