She is a woman
with a full heart, artfully cocooning
somewhere in an illusioned room
with herself, beside herself, looking
with eyes of love
in solitude, among the multitude
I hear her voice
whispering warnings, half-formed,
bodiless as vapor. Pens to be freed,
to be heard, showing self in
shapes of swans, shedding light on
darkness with wings of hope
She wants a measure
of quietude, a certain silence,
The echo of alone
which silences the screaming,
the nothing that stills the wanting,
the numb, to hide the hurt
I see a woman, proud,
uncompromising, diaphanous as air
less the tears that fall
about her weary feet
Salty solutions; bane for thirst,
pooled upon her hallowed ground
She feels too much,
too deeply to be directionless,
too real for imagining, and yet
her harrowing eyes hold heartache
and her own reflection;
a melding of shadows misting mirror
I'm persuaded that time
has no puissance but that which
she affords it...
but she waits transfixed, believing
heavenly sleep is for the dead,
as its ghosts still haunt her living
She worries about
being alone, that in her longing
she has been forsaken, mistaken
I cry for having
too much sorrow, for fear of her
falling, and when by the pouring of
her soul she lies; a vessel emptied
I cry again for what she has lost,
and still rejoice for what she gains
She touches the downy wings
of hope and wonder. Replenishing
reverence, need, and hunger,
while touching us all...
We are formed by life experiences;
shaped, broken, perhaps
- unmade and voided -
but always, the core remains waiting
with faith, with trust, with
hope eternal ...truly kindred spirits
Silver trophy winner
Adding your comment:
Love, C
No fair, makin' the judge get all teary~eyed, Nicky. Thank you for entering such a genuine, understanding piece, my Friend. It's beautiful...& certain parts of it, all too true. Good luck in the contest, Poet. 
