My fingers twist,
a plait of moonlight,
a page grilling in an open fire.

My flowerless family
does not sing to me
and if I could I would remember everything,
remember the pain until
it ceased to grieve me.

A train bellows in the distance
shaking loose my bones
and in my heart I run alongside it,
unfettered and certain of what
it means to cross the finish line.

I did not ask for this
but with my very own heart
I have fashioned each response.
I have often been mistaken
but to revisit those check points again
would only spoil the life
I have come so desperately to love.

We are never okay,
but that in itself is alright,
who wants to stand on ceremony?
To be is to cease,
one must become again and again
until there is nothing left
but to advance.


20 thoughts on “Wordle #259

  1. Lovely and slightly melancholic flavour to this poem Yves – but there is a certain understanding and acceptance that time doesn’t stand still – well rarely – and that the “tug of war” of the ties that bind to the past need to be addressed while hoping that one has the strength and courage and ability to still make it through to the light – in the here and now, even as it means listening to the slight whispers and dreams heartfelt, perhaps timorous, that one desires for the future.

    Layered but beautiful Yves 🙂

    And hugs to you …. just because ….

  2. I’ll tell ya, it’s getting harder and harder to come up with original praises… I do LOVE “plait of moonlight”, but really every single word-phrase combination, and ultimate meaning (at the end) is stellar. I’ll stop there 🙂

      1. You’re very welcome 🙂 And I hope you remember that I’m not about idle flattery–but rather 100% genuine-authentic sincerity 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s