another sunbeam
spitting through venetian
blinds
hitting my already
parched lips stretched
in a rictus of another
morning
does not seem to help
at all
i do not see what good
one more saturday can do
to soften the edges
of a soul knifed shut
but for the susurration of
dreams sighing
down
stray shadows escaping
like notes wrested from
a cradle-song remembered
too late
i have no bedfellows
who can share my guilt
nothing like winter
chilling spring to
life
like a snowdrift clinging
to a hillside
like shadow to light
my misery clothes me
chases me
so remorselessly
loving
If I only had your handphone no. I would have sent this to you yesterday, along with the ones I sent to my friends. It’s a quote, but I do not know from whom.
‘It’s not the things we have, but the things we enjoy, that constitutes our abundance.’
We can never run away from sadness Ree, but we can always meet it with a grateful heart… and perhaps hope to conquer it. A ’sunbeam’ tne morning after a night laid to rest would have been enough for me.
Pinpricks … sunbeams spitting … misery clothes me - nice description.
i love all those passages - i can connect with all of what you have written. i showed it to my wife and let her read it — she told me not to be involve deep into it — cuz she said last weeks downloading of all my illnesses by my doctor will just put me into a “quiet river” also.
Oh, this is a gorgeous piece! *applauding* flows like silk.