In the instance between
a breath and exhalation,
blindness lands before
the light that streams
eager to show the way
we had so easily turned against,
the tips of our toes turn
facing back to the over worn path
expecting a new sight
we squint and strain to reach
the twilight that waits
or for another decision to be had.
Lost and driven deep
we search beneath the stones and moss,
as cold damp steeps our bones
like limp old tea bags dead
on the bottom of the cup,
we stir the leaves searching
for words we are unwilling to speak,
a party set for no one
as the cakes and pretties fall in throes
of another tired day that came
and left us wondering
what happened to the dream.
There was a place once long ago,
remembered from images of a child
and the lights and scent of a holiday
that came and went
like death that speaks its ghostly chant,
we cannot but help to be swept back
into that overflowing pan,
dust and debris litter the floor
as the broom pushes it to and fro,
and the perpetual piece of fuzz
that races for the corner to escape,
in the dying embers of light
we are aware of what sits waiting
and we bend down to remove
the offending piece with a touch of emotion,
another round of memory strikes
with its never-ending match,
firing up the thoughts
like a blazing torch,
and I am there again in a dream
where you are still here.
Tidying the writing “blue” room today I was straightening the shelves and my book collection. Behind a picture there lay a small mass of grey fuzz and it took me back to memories of when my kitty Smokey used to hide in the cubby and sleep till I shooed her out. I keep finding her fuzzies here and there but today finally stopped to meditate on the loss and ask for healing to continue. The tree is surviving the wrath of Khan , I mean Kit Kat and my sister-in-law arrives tonight for the holiday season. Work has resumed to five days a week again for most part and I will be in periodically as time allows. Thank you for your continued support and cheers to a new year filled with good things and amazing moments.
Peace and love,
K
You’re doing a great job. ๐๐
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I am trying to get more images in my writing and thank you for picking that up, it was one of my faves too โค
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A bittersweet piece with haunting images, especially this one:
“as cold damp steeps our bones
like limp old tea bags dead
on the bottom of the cup.”
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Aww…what a cozy picture! Smudge says he loves to sit on my lap in the morning while I’m eating (drinking!) my Very Nutritious Breakfast Smoothie! ๐ Oh, please don’t send the torrential rain this way….we have enough already coming from another direction. Ugh.
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Hey Smudge, hugs and fuzzy warmth back too ๐ the KitKat is snuggled up beside me as we speak. A day off with torrential rain but making the best of it with some reading and writing ๐
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What a lovely, sad exploration of loss and the will to keep going. Smudge sends fuzzy warmth your way. As do I! ๐
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Dear Kim, your images take me to a sad place. It adds so much to your poetry to tell the story of how you create it from the moments of your life. All by itself your poetry is exquisite.
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There’s always a light on for you Kim you are the one and only…its not reality its just me wanting the impossible
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Fine imagery. Enjoy your time together
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May the broom of time
to you be kind, and make
clear your path unto a
happy new year โบ.
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