A Winter Poem
My first poem in a loooong time … a bit rough, fresh-hewn
Home Is A Place You Can’t Escape From
You wake in your soft bed
To find a weight, a presence
On your brow
You ask it its name
You try to find its story
It gives you clouds
That are treetops
And there are rooted, downward
Strokes that are trunks, swaying
In a silent wind
But they are also puppet strings
And so you are pulled from
Your soft bed
And into your shoes
And the outside
You walk hard and fast
Shed your wool
And sweat
You aren’t exactly angry
with yourself
And you’re beyond frustration
Nearly
You chant your attempts
At embracing
All that you wish away
And it’s a struggle
You surrender to
Reaching the corner
On the hill
The trees breathe darkly
You recognise them – treetops, trunks
A yellow ribbon flutters
from a branch
And the world is suddenly
Alive
and Present
and Aware
It…
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Posted on June 28, 2013, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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