Saturday, March 09, 2024

scenic/cynic

When I leave this country of fog
my bags of salt fall into the river
carried away like tears
*
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
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:

Nance said...

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.

Gillian said...

Nice.

maya said...

Nance, thank you!! I like how my aging body believes in itself.

Thank you, Gillian :)!

Sarah said...

Love the thoughts like kites

StephLove said...

A lot of interesting imagery in this one.

Also, gone for a month? Where are you going?

maya said...

Thanks, Steph!

I'm NOT going away for a month, my friend "L" is. The "L" looks like an "I."

last day/first day

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