And
this, my very heart,
is
the weight of water
like
blood
bending
the blooms,
smoke
and mist graying tulips,
ash
on butterflies’ wings.
My
very heart! We bury
our
dead selves
swollen
but dry,
and
in this come alive—the lift
in
rain
and
rain and rain again.
My
very heart, see!
Instead
of the weight, the gray, the ash—
the
bloom,
the
color,
the
wings.
Beautiful writing! There is both fragility and strength in this eloquent and stirring piece. Such is the way, we emerge - winged - from the heaviest of hours.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your heart, thoughts and words. You always captivate with your poetry and capture such wonderful imagery. I'm also impressed, you've done it again :)
ReplyDeleteJust gorgeous writing! Hope you are doing well--I have been hiding under a rock for months it seems like--
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautiful! What poetry!! I am going to steal this one of yours : "ash on butterflies’ wings." :)
ReplyDeleteHi, here I am after a very, very long time. (Lots of other stuff going on, then I kept getting sidetracked. Now, I can barely even remember how to use my blog.) I've missed blogging and reading your blog! Love your poem. You're so talented.
ReplyDeleteHave come back to visit Jennifer. I miss your writing--and I feel like I am finally coming out from under my rock.
ReplyDelete