Cargando...

I, Sleep on Moons

By J Ann Crowder

I imagine I’m sitting
On the edge of moons
Seeing what is to become
My future
 
If only we could see what befalls us
Would we be happy there?
What would we change?
 
I, sleep on moons
Deep in my imaginations sprung
A guise
Hides
What really lies inside
 
Sometimes we can’t change
Anything
Things happening
Not of our own will
 
Sometimes we are bruised
We stutter and are broken
 
Pain comes to us
In many sculptures
Each different
All stabbing
Like glaciers in cold, sultry oceans
 
We bleed on pinnacles
Our feet trudging
On broken glass
 
There is an abyss within
We yearn to fill it
We could fill it with time?
As bruises heal
And our cuts no longer bleed
 
We long for them
Never again to bleed
 
The abyss is waiting to be filled
It’s wanton lungs scream
For oxygen
 
Indeed, with time we may fill it
We may fill it
With things our eyes admire
Like rocky springs
Roses
Daisies
Poetry?
Shining light into corners
Darkened by a muddy hole
 
No magic will change a hole
Burrowed by hands not our own
But our own magic can paint holes
Until they are no longer black
 
We should not consign our souls
To a pit
We live on edges of moons
Looking down
At what we can’t change
Seeing what we can
Grasping at magic
Within reach of our own fingertips
Patching holes, planting gardens
Watching our bruises heal

Written April 26th, 2016.

Preferido o celebrado por...
Otras obras de J Ann Crowder...



Top