Thursday, April 23, 2020

Lift (For My Son)

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.

© 2020 Jennifer Wagner


Wendy Bourke said...

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.

Tank said...

Thank 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 :)

Audrey Howitt aka Divalounger said...

Just gorgeous writing! Hope you are doing well--I have been hiding under a rock for months it seems like--

Rajesh said...

This is so beautiful! What poetry!! I am going to steal this one of yours : "ash on butterflies’ wings." :)

janetld said...

Hi, 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.

Audrey Howitt aka Divalounger said...

Have come back to visit Jennifer. I miss your writing--and I feel like I am finally coming out from under my rock.