Reach
November 16, 2012 at 11:33 am (literature, Poems, poetry, politics, Stories) (anxiety, earth, experience, family, fear, flash, friendship, journey, life, loneliness, love, poem, poems, poetry, relationships, rhyming, slam, soul, word, words, world)
The quick flick change dealt by the day
is hard to reconcile
when trauma preys on happiness
and grief tugs on its tail
and like a rusty spring, resolve
grows brittle over time
so every heaviness weighs more
than once, when we were primed.
But do not turn away from me
to spare me from your care
I also suffer silently
don’t be afraid to share.
Perhaps, if we tessellate our years
collaborate our smiles
we’ll find new ways to gird ourselves
to bear life’s rocky miles.
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nobodysreadingme said,
November 16, 2012 at 2:10 pm
I like the resolve/rusty spring/brittle simile very much
i read your subtle words, then look at my swashbuckling blog writing, and wonder how on earth we both got to like each other’s work enough to follow each other.
I’m off to Twitter now to broadcast this.
I hope you have a good weekend. I’m off toe a murder mystery dinner (lots of people I don’t know, AAAARRRGGHH, take deep breaths. Should be fun, but a bit tense making all the same
Julia Dean-Richards said,
November 16, 2012 at 10:09 pm
Enjoy the mystery – watch out for the ticks and tells x
nobodysreadingme said,
November 17, 2012 at 9:51 am
If you’ve ever played Cluedo you’ll know that 9 times out of 10 it’s the Rev Green.
So right off I’m putting the character of the Bishop in the frame, since he’s a clergyman.
Then I’ll probably too much