When I think of all the hours I stared
at the carvings of a wardrobe making faces in dusk
or listened intently to the sound of monsters unfurling
beyond my bedroom window
and the dust settling on objects belonging to me
sleeping away another day
the sense of time passing
and what we own versus what we only purchase
for this short journey
a pearl within shell
fleeting like a play where all characters
are insubstantial and hardly formed
like voices calling from a great distance
with fog separating their meaning
what do we know of another’s journey
or the grief they store within their silence
what of the godless and their cleave
to make terms with empty skies and
when you lay your head on my lap
in my dark room with no windows
and you whisper all the swallowed hurt
you folded and re-folded within your heart
I cannot say I know where to place such pain
it lingers
like the ghosts of my childhood
and the specters I created
tapping at window panes
snarling beneath the bed
they are only kept at bay by our reason
and I have less and less
but you
you demand notice as the crying child will urge
even weary mothers to unclothe their milk
and my chest burns for wanting to soothe
but nothing comes
not succor
not words
for who can say
it will be all right
when outside the world hefts its mighty sword
and hacks down with seeming impunity
those tender links we make
during our dusty walk
it feels sometimes as if we ought
to cease to observe
and become feral once more
only responding to the urge within us
to outsprint our demise
who wants to witness, to consciously realize
as they diminish toward frailty
and what can the child who has no child
say to her loved ones when they
clamor for her wisdom?
this reversal of roles sits like new flowers
drinking in early sun
knowing less of themselves than the past
I feel my grandmother’s hand
she is somewhere in the light
just a step beyond where I can follow
she tells me to be brave and strong
hold on child, the waves will be high
and you must find purchase
it is the break of my sandals on boulders
the scrabble of my fingers climbing wetly
all the chains of our fears
biting our attempt to defeat
it is harder to do this as you reach
the summit of yourself
where looking out at a drowning world
there are days you wish
not to understand what it is to love
or the pain this will bequeath
when those dear pass beyond
your reach
I can only strike out
one sure step, one uncertain
leaving footprints for myself
in virgin sand
there is no forward, no return
only a circle within a circle
ancestors on one cusp
perhaps a forest between us
for it is not just the heart
but the sound of birds coming home
and the boon of life as it bursts
anew with each day
we cast our nets deep
we gather our grief
and set sail our hope
for one more
one more moment
kept safe against
the crystal wall of waves
sure as day will close
they gather
like women beneath
the moon glow
opalescent
Reblogged this on TheFeatheredSleep.
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Feral. That ever present call.
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Gorgeous! This flows from one image to another, like a tide, or like a wild animal in a cage walking round and round, all linked with a sense of helplessness faced with the reality of what is outside the window. Maybe only someone else’s reality, but who’s to say?
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Great imagery, great flow…yikes….
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Brilliantly written 🙏
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Candice, at the heart of everything, these are true words.
“what do we know of another’s journey
or the grief they store within their silence”
This is where those wonderful, patient listeners (Gordon Lightfoot called them the “Rainy Day People”). They know when to be present and just listen. I felt the stanza where she lays her head on your lap in the dark solitude. My imagination is the sitter just being there, stroking the other’s hair ready to listen when she is ready to tell.
Nicely done, Keith
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Oh my beautiful wordsmith Sister…this is magnificently beautiful! ❤
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Your imagery in this poem is impeccable and masterful.
I caught myself crying because the way you write your words and how you express yourself in a very enigmatic way.
Love you sister.
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Beautiful Candice… This really speaks to me, I can feel it in my heart, just lovely ❤
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One word: “beautiful”.
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As ever, Candice – the queen!
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You got the boots i have the camera 😉
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Haha!
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