I lay it down
(grief)
it climbs back up
(stubborn as I)
we dance the room
(broken sticks, tipped with gold
the black of earth, unseeing wisdom
felt)
a fabled entwine
(for lovers do not call anymore)
they see the line dividing both parts
they taste the ash of my tongue when I bend
my neck to accept their yoke
and they build boats to isles of
less despair, where the boats become
homes and wood grows back into tree
where I know only
how to chop
myself into pieces
the way I learned
and never grew out of.
So beautiful and yet deeply sad, the last line touches me so much, raw pain.💜
powerful words both harrowing and beautiful 💙💙💙💙💜💜💜💜🖤💜💜💜💜💜💜💜😊🌹
Awesome poetry!
I blame bad parenting, the general harshness of life, and DNA which creates people gone wrong—all contribute to the sorrow we experience, and sadly, seems to get worse as we age. Aching lines but so damn good, Candy! ❤
Maybe but we can only write from our soul. How are your eyes ? be safe . Hugs 💜
“(stubborn as I)” – So it is with lessons learned early, embedded with equal stubbornness, rooted dandelion deep.
Sorry for the sadness. I know it puts people off reading. But I did read a monogram about the value of such poetry so I hope that is true. I appreciate you.
It is of great value and you write such beautiful poetry I am honoured to know you 💜
A beautiful distillation of mourning, for so many things…
Ditto x 100 but I must try to write more upbeat I know
(stubborn as we)
Thank you so much dearest Poet Pas
Thank you so much dearest Krissy xo
I’m with you there sister
💜 🐴 💜
Thank you my friend I think you’re so right. I appreciate you asking. I’ll write you a proper email 💜
Take care 💜💜
Indeed!
<3
Beautifully written grief