This pond takes time, and
this pond tells time, for those
standing on its mossy rim
willing to look into waters and remember
who and whose they've been
How can I look? when the memories
along your edges may hold so much pain
uncovered by voices clamoring
to claim who I am and am
not
Dare I crouch to glance and see
reflections stilling in your mirror
within which many, so many have fished
before I stood as a child, hoping
waiting, with my line in your murky waters
This pond gives time, now
even as I stoop to gaze
through nothing but memory and
haze, created by pain and separation
cradling a gift submerged within your murky waters
2 comments:
Wow, i loved it.
I made me think of how many times we are afraid to look back at the past, but when we do we see how we got to where we are today.
You have opened a window to your soul for all to look in and then you ask us to comment on it. I can not.
When we stuff our emotions, thoughts for a long time and then we are healed enough so that we can look at them, we have to express what we see, feel. Some times it comes gushing out. The form you have chosen is poetry. It is beautiful but personal, tender. We want someone to see it and say it is good. It is good! Keep writing. How do I know? I've been there.
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