Rabarbra or Wife Engel picking Rhubarb via WikimediaThis place called time
tastes like rhubarb pulled from dark earth
washed too quickly
holds the grit
and fervor
my grandma says
coal and dirt protect the child
from disease and rancor
but will they erase? I ask
the tenor of nightmares brushing
thin window panes at dawn
before first bird call wakes
the timorous
for fear
can come in the unexpected moth
hitting light and dying upside down
bearing fangs
or in an accumulation of loss
seeking refuge in cooling pipes
when the world sleeps
are we lost then?
to the debris of ourselves?
making masks of highs and lows
as mountains would cleave themselves
into castles
I would like I told her
to be a badger or a fox
stealthy and unseen
beneath hedgerow of cast offs
wild and lost in retreat
among spun floss of highlands
where moss turns aubergine and dries
into purple air
once I saw a skull bleached into chalk
more could be said of its expression
than the world of scraped chairs
and reluctant mouths downcast in an effort
not to betray themselves
when they pulled me from the weeds
daubing calamine for poison ivy and
salt on adhering slugs
I asked they leave me
just a moment more
to turn into a hollow
instrument awaiting its pluck
in the warmth of an
empty room

0 Replies to “Time”

  1. I grew up in NYC but went to camp in the country. Nature was always a refuge, as was my solitary room as an only child. Leave me in either and I am at peace…

  2. I picked Rhubarb today Candice from my garden.. And made a crumble with it 🙂 Your poem both holding beauty and fear.. Deeply engraved.. Bitter and sweet like my crumble.. The world holds both the Moth and the flame.. I hope you look to find more Beauty in your gardens of memory than the poison ivy and the sting it left in your heart dear Candice..
    For you are a beautiful soul worthy of being a rose… and even the most beautiful of roses has her stem of thorns before we get to the heart of her bloom..
    Sending LOVE to your heart dear friend.. I know from what i have read you have had more than your share of thorns..
    I wish only a garden of Peace and Beauty for you to rest in as you find the contentment within
    Love and Blessings Always.. xxx Sue

    1. I want to come and live in your garden! Here in TX we cannot grow those things I grew up with as a child, and I do miss that! I love rhubarb especially, for its bitterness, and the color. Magnificent. Also so glad you cook because so many do not, most buy their stuff here, and I think there is something very meditative about making from scratch. Gosh if you were my neighbor I would be round in a heartbeat! 😉 Thank you for your lovely words. I do believe the metaphor of a garden is so apropos in so many ways.

      1. Bless your heart Candice.. and yes the crumble was delicious, and you would be more than welcome around for a cuppa and chat <3 xxx Have a great weekend xxx <3

  3. This is so beautiful. My youngest daughter is longing for a place to roam free. She wants to go walking in meadows, forests, anyplace to be free with her imagination. You reminded me of this and so much more. xoxox

    1. One thing I like about Europe is you can walk around without it being illegal the way it can be with private property in the US. I miss just being able to walk unhindered. You know?

    1. Ah my friend. I can see why you would not think you had freedom, and maybe there is truth to that, because illness is the worst aspect of feeling trapped, but it’s also something you can grow beyond, I’m not saying it’s easy or even always possible, but freedom is a state of mind more than anything else. You also have your faith. If you have faith you are always free. I know this because I do not!

  4. Man oh man what moving images you create with you words and how you grab the readers emotions with the rawness of your own. Powerful and stunning my friend. Love and hugs, Natalie 🙂 <3

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