more biting than
a surgeon's suture
stitching scalpel lines
a phantom wound
rising like last year's moon
sweeps into the night
folds pale shadows
in on one another
decades collapse
distort the calendar
until the first day
lies crushed and bleeding
unburied and raw
loss begins again
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13 comments:
Powerful! Eschatological, even!
Powerful imagery. You convey so well the ceaseless bloodshed across the centuries which 'begins again' with the new year.
Nice, very nice, tumblewords! :)
I find grief to be just like this.
Loss.
Always you touch deeply.
Thank you.
Sherry
Whoah- wow- that IS mourning.
Seared right through me.
A beautiful dance of words...that slips up behind you and shocks you with the numbing truth.
You make the Pale Horse a lyrically shadowy creature in words and in brushstrokes.
Wow, this goes beyond my understanding - way out into the heavenly realm, perhaps. Wonderfulwords!
The poem was forceful in carrying me along with it.
I love the "wound rising like last year's moon." And the simplicity of that last line makes the pain much worse!
a raw piece with a logic all its own. i can't say as i get all the images, but the aggregate is very strong.
scathing and truly painful how time collapses i know!
Filled with power...
clearly fading
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