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Clarity

January 21, 2013

312376_4313224595129_1546812856_n (Copy)
Clarity
I cannot stand, nor walk or fly
Only collide in my barren yard
In stunned moments of clarity
Soil still clutched in my hands

Taste this despair and wormwood
Still bitter on my tongue; I bruise my flesh
On bark, dead roots and cold abuse
My face still stings with toothless song

Puzzled by where I am, how I got here
Lost in the looming darkness, I am still;
Fragile as a pressed oak leaf
Pain the only constant

My mind maroons itself in some
Dismal place between earth and sky;
All around a river of noise is flowing
Indifferent to my pain, my suffering

Strange, how I fall into my body
It’s my tears that bring me back,
Spilling out like drops of blood
On radiant ground

My hope, once soft as summer sand,
Lifts one wing to embrace the frigid air;
When hunger finally has its sway and
Trembles like a woman nearing ecstasy

I rise; my bones sing like mist over the creek
Pain is blurred by time and healing
The outlines on my body softer now—
Truth, at last, ascends towards light
© Selena Howard, 2013

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. Julie Catherine permalink
    January 21, 2013 11:08 am

    Selena, this is a beautiful poem that tells of the stark truth of pain and suffering that we as humans all too often become indifferent to … and as time passes and we begin to heal, we are softened and yet also strengthened by our experiences. And, like the dove, truth always seeks the light and ascends – transcending our earthly limitations. This is a powerful poem, beautifully written, my friend, I love it! xoxox

  2. stronghearted1 permalink*
    January 21, 2013 1:08 pm

    Thank you so much Julie . I love you girlfriend

  3. November 25, 2013 1:17 pm

    Strange how time heals
    the heart forgives
    the mind forgets
    things said in frustration mere regrets
    we move on
    each to their own allotted path or calling
    friends remembered only for the good deeds done
    so said with best intention meant
    so beautiful the work
    with power in the ink
    a voice where stillness would hold the ground
    a past anchor home or link
    Strange how time heals.

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