When I leave this country of fog
my bags of salt fall into the river
carried away like tears
my bags of salt fall into the river
carried away like tears
*
breezes blow out birthday candles
whistle through my aching head
breezes blow out birthday candles
whistle through my aching head
lift thoughts like kites
*
every day I make my body stronger
it will build a city, knock out bullies
it will build a city, knock out bullies
I dream as fast as I can
_____________________
Pic: The Red Cedar behind L's house. L will be gone for a month, so we had an extra long walk-and-talk this week.
6 comments:
I love the body of this poem. I love the way its tone builds in strength and the voice gains resolve through release.
The last line actually brought tears to my eyes.
It's wonderful.
Nice.
Nance, thank you!! I like how my aging body believes in itself.
Thank you, Gillian :)!
Love the thoughts like kites
A lot of interesting imagery in this one.
Also, gone for a month? Where are you going?
Thanks, Steph!
I'm NOT going away for a month, my friend "L" is. The "L" looks like an "I."
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