Jul
14
2014

After all, but still

2 comments

Poetry

To arrive by quiet finally

at the doorway into dark

nothing, force

that renovates the now,

puts daily plans

to eternity’s test

so that just these three remain:

To love, the heart cracked, spilling now its unstoppable fire.

To die, the body at rest while the hawk rises.

To live, the hand pulls silken seeds from a pod,

lifts them to wind,

lets go.

Dark Milkweed for Post Illustration

 

This poem was published in Freshwater 2014, I am proud to report.

Leave a Comment

January 15, 2014, 10:13 pm Rose Petronella

So BEAUTIFUL, Carolyn!  Thank you.

Love, Rose

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August 16, 2014, 12:05 am Laura MacKay

That is wonderful. Thank you.

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