In grass and sand I find
The heart of me, no more,
No less than my mad moon,
Spinning silver off its core.
Tears assemble a reckless line,
In a watch without a hand,
Numbers shift upon the face,
No center, no time and no command.
When storm-waves swell I walk,
To grasp me and sea and sand,
When downpours flood my hollows,
I follow what I cannot see on land.
Barefoot for dread of all I was,
And all that I am not,
Skin to ground before, behind,
Broken bottles full of rot.
I forge my way most gracefully,
Perfumes coward my regret.
I am barefoot to remember,
Am barefoot to forget.
Thank you Justine.
And thank you just as much for not leaving me out here hanging… a lone voice crying out in the virtual wilderness
Love your poem, Justine! It’s certainly so meaningful!
And thanks to you, again, for your ever encouraging comments.
Reblogged this on teshawnedmonds.