Epic poetry from Candice at The Feathered Sleep ❤❤❤
How early morning light
Discovers a new pucker, a fine line
The crepe of hands unwrung from fear
Too many years I was hostage to you
Terror
Thinking age would only color more vivid
That anxious sickness, a trembling nerve
Raw to this unforgiving gallivant
Pills can only gloss over the root
Purple and bruised
It is not enough to look away
You will meet in unguarded moment
Yourself
Bilious with trepidation of this gift of life
We have
Glass blowers of naught and much
Configured our trajectories
To eliminate handling this butchers theatre
We poise through fingers held before our eyes
Seeing segments and no practice of
Wholeness
Given to calm souls
Seeking just enough
I do not know how
To carve peace
Like a white horse out of chalky cliffs side
To stand as marker
When the sea gathers her cockled skirts and rises
Over our heads
**
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Indeed!!!
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