music broke by breath off key
but it was a van that went by,
like surprise of unhealthy pregnancy
I have a big hurt
and I go all the way to the sun
for some healing
even with snow by flagstone
my barefeet stop
at intersection of seasons
I put all weight on one foot
see whisked stereotype
of unwalked yet internally
could distract from miscarriage
happened to this body
to a hop every twent-four hours
taming tainted
until twilight isn't stuck nor talk,
communicating more than circadian rhythm
when banana balloons begin
again gravity light switches
but for speech of tastebuds
reaching hormones hearing
phone call between us away from digestion prop pop crop or garden diction
Author notes
deep breath laid down
forehead hit by leaf miscarried assimilation
was typical brick brocolli
I remortar by fermenting stem's arrow
while florets air dry as bookmark
in momento empty nest
except for gradual joy
please leave off good luck, unnatural emoticons, applause symbols...hypes
Comments
-
Healing comes hard
Your chosen therapy leaves one like me in deep memories of grief..........so gradual is the healing. But the Son does heal not "time" like so often said. Time is what it takes and tears and much more. I believe a little hope has come back into this heart, after waiting for time too long. But only because I cried to the Lord all the real feelings instead of hiding them.
My heart goes out to you in your time of burden. May God bless you and hold you until His Spirit soothes away the pain.
Love to you,
Annette
-
-
Annette I like looking at your name coming around, everything doubled but A except it's capitalized....
thanks for the veritable value, " Time is what it takes and tears and much more" since static is what I have to say sans smooth transition... like even lately collecting circles trombones thoughts of my dad.
I know wholeness isn't without original ushering that can't be gnarled in our originality, but by all utterances of spannable return. but it's so hard, though immediacy isn't rich as endurance if being fanned as psalm of open hand ~
a sunset is as stamp on mail that's more expensive but for attention as to polluted opportuniy --
you've been kind reading these tired words of my poem, and I welcome a freedom's focus without applause symbols convincing artificial laughter etcetcera @
called Carolyn
-
Adding your comment:
